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MRS.  TREE 


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MRS.    TREE. 


RS.  TREE 


By 

Laura  E.   Richards 

Author  of 

"  Captain  January,"  "  Melody,"  "  Marie,"etc. 


Boston 

Dana  Estes  &  Company 

Publishers 


Copyright,  iqo2 
By  Dana  Estes  &  Company 

All  rights  reserved 


MRS.    TREE 

Published  June,  1902 


(Colonial  $ress 

Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Simonds  &  Co. 

Boston.  Mass.,  U.  S.  A 


TO 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.     Wedding  Bells        . 

PAGE 

11 

II. 

Miss  Phoebe's  Opinions    . 

25 

III. 

Introducing    Tommy    Candy   ane 

> 

Solomon,  his  Grandfather  . 

41 

IV. 

Old  Friends     .... 

55 

V. 

"  But  When  He  Was  Yet  a  Great 

Way  off"        .... 

75 

VI. 

The  New  Postmaster 

92 

VII. 

In  Miss  Penny's  Shop     . 

107 

VIII. 

A  Tea-party    .... 

124 

IX. 

A  Garden  -  party     . 

142 

X. 

Mr.  Butters  Discourses 

161 

XI. 

Miss  Phcebe  Passes  on   . 

175 

XII. 

The  Peak  in  Darien 

189 

XIII. 

Life  in  Death 

201 

XIV. 

Tommy    Candy,    and    the    Lettee 

He  Brought    .... 

217 

XV. 

Maria 

233 

XVI. 

Doctor  Stedman's  Patient    . 

249 

XVII. 

Not  Yet  !           .... 

267 

LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

♦ 

PAGE 

Mrs.  Tree Frontispiece 

"  She  put  out  a  finger,  and  Jocko  clawed  it 

without  ceremony  " 119 

"  '  Careful  with  that  Bride  Blush,  Willy  '  "  143 
"'Perhaps   this    is  as  good   medicine   as   you 

can  take  !'  he  said" 262 


MRS.   TREE 


CHAPTER  I. 

WEDDING   BELLS 

"  Well,  they're  gone ! "  said  Direxia  Hawkes. 

"  H'm ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

Direxia  had  been  to  market,  and,  it  was  to 
be  supposed,  had  brought  home,  beside  the 
chops  and  the  soup-piece,  all  the  information 
the  village  afforded.  She  had  now,  after  put- 
ting away  her  austere  little  bonnet  and  cape, 
brought  a  china  basin,  and  a  mystic  assortment 
of  white  cloths,  and  was  polishing  the  window- 
panes,  which  did  not  need  polishing.  From 
time  to  time  she  glanced  at  her  mistress,  who 

sat  bolt  upright  in  her  chair,  engaged  on  a 
11 


12  MRS.    TREE 

severe-looking  piece  of  knitting.  Mrs.  Tree 
detested  knitting,  and  it  was  always  a  bad 
sign  when  she  put  away  her  book  and  took  up 
the  needles. 

"  Yes'm ;  they're  gone.  I  see  'em  go.  Ithu- 
riel  Butters  drove  'em  over  to  the  Junction; 
come  in  yesterday  o'  purpose,  and  put  up  his 
team  at  Doctor  Stedman's.  Ithuriel  thinks  a 
sight  of  Doctor  Strong.  Yes'm;  folks  was  real 
concerned  to  see  him  go,  and  her  too.  They 
made  a  handsome  couple,  if  they  be  both  light- 
complected." 

"What  are  you  doing  to  that  window, 
Direxia  Hawkes  ? "  demanded  Mrs.  Tree,  look- 
ing up  from  her  knitting  with  a  glittering  eye. 

"  I  was  cleanin'  it." 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  I  never  should  have 
supposed  so  from  looking  at  it.  Perhaps  you'd 
better  let  it  alone." 

"You're  a  terrible  tedious  woman  to  live 
with,  Mi*'  Tree ! "  said  Direxia. 


WEDDING  BELLS  13 

"You're  welcome  to  go  any  minute,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  Tree. 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Direxia.  "  What  kind  of 
sauce  would  you  like  for  tea  ? " 

"  Any  kind  except  yours,"  said  Mrs.  Tree ; 
and  then  both  smiled  grimly,  and  felt  better. 

Direxia  polished  away,  still  with  an  anxious 
eye  on  the  old  woman  whom  she  loved  fiercely. 

*  He  sent  a  message  to  you,  last  thing  before 
he  drove  off.  He  wanted  I  should  tell  you  — 
what's  this  now  he  said?  'Tell  her  to  keep 
on  growing  young  till  I  come  back/  that  was 
it.  Well,  he's  a  perfect  gentleman,  that's  what 
he  is." 

Something  clicked  in  Mrs.  Tree's  throat,  but 
she  said  nothing.  Mrs.  Tree  was  over  ninety, 
but  apart  from  an  amazing  reticulation  of 
wrinkles,  netted  fine  and  close  as  a  brown  veil, 
she  showed  little  sign  of  her  great  age.  As 
she  herself  said,  she  had  her  teeth  and  her 
wits,  and  she  did  not  see  what  more  any  one 


14  MBS.    TREE 

wanted.  In  her  morning  gown  of  white  dimity, 
with  folds  of  soft  net  about  her  throat,  and  a 
turban  of  the  same  material  on  her  head,  she 
was  a  pleasant  and  picturesque  figure.  For 
the  afternoon  she  affected  satin,  either  plum- 
colored,  or  of  the  cinnamon  shade  in  which 
some  of  my  readers  may  have  seen  her  else- 
where, with  slippers  to  match,  and  a  cap  sug- 
gesting the  Corinthian  order.  In  this  array, 
majesty  replaced  picturesqueness,  and  there 
were  those  in  Elmerton  who  quailed  at  the 
very  thought  of  this  tiny  old  woman,  upright 
in  her  ebony  chair,  with  the  acanthus-leaf  in 
finest  Brussels  nodding  over  her  brows.  The 
last  touch  of  severity  was  added  when  Mrs. 
Tree  was  found  knitting,  as  on  the  present 
occasion. 

"  Ithuriel  Butters  is  a  sing'lar  man  ! "  Di- 
rexia  went  on,  investigating  with  exquisite 
nicety  the  corner  of  a  pane.  "  He  gave  me  a 
turn  just  now,  he  did  so." 


WEDDING  BELLS  15 

She  waited  a  moment,  but  no  sign  coming, 
continued.  "  I  was  to  Miss  Phoebe  'n'  Vesty's 
when  he  druv  up,  and  we  passed  the  time  o' 
day.  I  said,  «  How's  Mis'  Butters  now,  Ithu- 
riel  VI  said.  I  knew  she'd  been  re'l  poorly 
a  spell  back,  but  I  hadn't  heard  for  a  con- 
sid'able  time. 

"  <  I  ain't  no  notion ! '  says  he. 

" <  What  do  you  mean,  Ithuriel  Butters  ? '  I 


"  <  Just  what  I  say/  says  he. 

« t  Why,  where  is  she  ? '  I  says.  I  thought 
she  might  be  visitin',  you  know.  She  has 
consid'able  kin  round  here. 

"  *  I  ain't  no  idee,'  says  he.  •  I  left  her  in 
the  bur'in'-ground,  that's  all  I  know.' 

"Mis'  Tree,  that  woman  has  been  dead  a 
month,  and  I  never  knew  the  first  word  about 
it.  They're  all  sing'lar  people,  them  Butterses. 
She  was  a  proper  nice  woman,  though,  this 
Mis'  Butters,     He  had  hopes  of  Di-plomy  one 


16  MRS.    TREE 

spell,  after  his  last  died  —  she  was  a  reg'lar 
fire-skull;  he  didn't  have  much  peace  while 
she  lived — -died  in  a  tantrum  too,  they  say; 
scol't  so  hard  she  bust  a  vessel,  and  it  run  all 
through  her,  and  car'd  her  off  —  but  Di-plomy 
couldn't  seem  to  change  her  state,  no  more'n 
Miss  Phoebe  V  Vesty. 

"  My  sakes  !  if  there  ain't  Miss  Vesty  comin' 
now.  I'll  hasten  and  put  away  these  things, 
Mis'  Tree,  and  be  back  to  let  her  in." 

Miss  Vesta  Blyth  came  soberly  along  the 
street  and  up  the  garden  path.  She  was  a 
quaint  and  pleasant  picture,  in  her  gown  of 
gray  and  white  foulard,  with  her  little  black 
silk  mantle  and  bonnet.  Some  thirty  years 
ago  Miss  Vesta  and  her  sister  Miss  Phoebe  had 
decided  that  fashion  was  a  snare;  and  since 
then  they  had  always  had  their  clothes  made 
on  the  same  model,  to  the  despair  of  Prudence 
Pardon,  the  dressmaker. 

But  when  one  looked  at  Vesta  Blyth's  face, 


WEBBING  BELLS  17 

one  was  not  apt  to  think  about  her  clothes ;  one 
rather  thought,  what  a  pity  one  must  look  away 
from  her  presently !  At  least,  that  was  what 
Geoffrey  Strong  used  to  say,  a  young  man  who 
loved  Miss  Vesta,  and  who  was  now  gone 
away  with  his  young  wife,  leaving  sore  hearts 
behind. 

Direxia  Hawkes  came  out  on  the  porch  to 
meet  the  visitor,  closing  the  door  behind  her 
for  an  instant. 

"I'm  terrible  glad  you've  come,"  she  said. 
"She's  lookin'  for  you,  too,  I  expect,  though 
she  won't  say  a  word.  There !  she's  fairly 
rusted  with  grief.  It'll  do  her  good  to  have 
somebody  new  to  chaw  on ;  she's  been  chawin' 
on  me  till  she's  tired,  and  she's  welcome  to." 

"  Yes,  Direxia,  I  know ;  you  are  most  faith- 
ful and  patient,"  said  Miss  Yesta,  gently. 
"  You  know  we  all  appreciate  it,  don't  you,  my 
good  Direxia  ?  I  have  brought  a  little  sweet- 
bread for   Aunt   Marcia's    supper.      Diploma 


18  MBS.    TREE 

cooked  it  the  way  she  likes  it,  with  a  little 
cream,  and  just  a  spoonful  of  white  wine. 
There  !  now  I  will  go  in.    Thank  you,  Direxia." 

"  Dear  Aunt  Marcia,"  the  little  lady  said  as 
she  entered  the  room,  "  how  do  you  do  to-day  ? 
You  are  looking  so  well ! " 

"  I've  got  the  plague,"  announced  Mrs.  Tree, 
with  deadly  quiet. 

"  Dearest  Aunt  Marcia !  what  can  you  mean  ? 
The  plague  !  Surely  you  must  have  mistaken 
the  symptoms.  That  terrible  disease  is  happily, 
I  think,  restricted  to  —  " 

"  I've  got  twenty  plagues  S "  exclaimed  the 
old  lady.  "  First  there's  Direxia  Hawkes,  who 
torments  my  life  out  all  day  long ;  and  then 
you,  Vesta,  who  might  know  better,  coming 
every  day  and  asking  how  I  am.  How  should 
I  be  ?  Have  you  ever  known  me  to  be 
anything  but  perfectly  well  since  you  were 
born  ? " 

"  No,  dear  Aunt  Marcia,  I  am  thankful  to 


WEDDING  BELLS  19 

say  I  have  not.  It  is  such  a  singular  blessing, 
that  you  have  this  wonderful  health." 

"Well,  then,  why  can't  you  let  my  health 
alone  ?     When  it  fails,  I'll  let  you  know." 

"  Yes,  dear  Aunt  Marcia,  I  will  try." 

"  Bah  ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  You  are  a  good 
girl,  Yesta,  but  you  would  exasperate  a  saint. 
I  am  not  a  saint." 

Miss  Yesta,  too  polite  to  assent  to  this  state- 
ment, and  too  truthful  to  contradict  it,  gazed 
mildly  at  her  aunt,  and  was  silent. 

Mrs.  Tree,  after  five  minutes  of  vengeful 
knitting,  rolled  up  her  work  deliberately, 
stabbed  it  through  with  the  needles,  and  tossed 
it  across  the  room. 

"  Well ! "  she  said,  "  have  you  anything  else 
to  say,  Yesta  ?  I  am  cross,  but  I  am  not  hun- 
gry, and  if  I  were  I  would  not  eat  you.  Tell 
me  something,  can't  you  ?  Isn't  there  any 
gossip  in  this  tiresome  place  ? " 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Marcia,  I  cannot  think  of  any- 


20  MBS.    TREE 

thing  but  our  dear  children,  Geoffrey  and  Vesta. 
We  have  just  seen  them  off,  you  know.  In- 
deed, I  came  on  purpose  to  tell  you  about  their 
departure,  but  you  seemed  —  Aunt  Marcia, 
they  were  sad  at  going,  I  truly  think  they 
were.  It  was  here  they  first  met,  and  found 
their  young  happiness  —  the  Lord  preserve 
them  in  it  all  their  lives  long !  —  there  were 
tears  in  Little  Vesta's  eyes,  dear  child !  but 
still,  they  are  going  to  their  own  home,  and  of 
course  they  were  full  of  joy  too.  Oh,  Aunt 
Marcia,  I  must  say,  dear  Geoffrey  looked  like 
a  prince  as  he  handed  his  bride  into  the 
carriage." 

"  Was  he  in  red  velvet  and  feathers  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Tree.  "It  wouldn't  surprise  me  in  the 
least." 

"  Oh,  no,  dear  Aunt  Marcia !  Nothing,  I 
assure  you,  gaudy  or  striking,  in  the  very  least. 
He  wore  the  ordinary  dress  of  a  gentleman, 
not  conspicuous  in  any  way.     It  was  his  air  I 


WEDDING  BELLS  21 

meant,  and  the  look  of  —  of  pride  and  joy  and 
youth  —  ah !  it  was  very  beautiful.  Vesta 
was  beautiful  too  ;  you  saw  her  travelling-dress, 
Aunt  Marcia.  Did  you  not  think  it  charming  ? " 

"The  child  looked  well  enough,"  said  Mrs. 
Tree.  "Lord  knows  what  sort  of  wife  she'll 
make,  with  her  head  stuffed  full  of  all  kinds 
of  notions,  but  she  looks  well,  and  she  means 
well.  I  gave  her  my  diamonds ;  did  she  tell 
you  that  ? " 

Miss  Vesta's  smooth  brow  clouded.  "  Yes, 
Aunt  Marcia,  she  told  me,  and  showed  them 
to  me.  I  had  not  seen  them  for  years.  They 
are  very  beautiful.     I  —  I  confess  —  " 

"Well,  what's  the  matter?"  demanded  her 
aunt,  sharply.  "  You  didn't  want  them  your- 
self, did  you  ? " 

"  Oh  !  surely  not,  dear  Aunt  Marcia.  I  was 
only  thinking  —  Maria  might  feel,  with  her 
two  daughters,  that  there  should  have  been 
some  division  —  " 


22  MBS.    TREE 

"  Vesta  Blyth,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  slowly,  "  am 
I  dead?" 

"  Dear  Aunt  Marcia !  what  a  singular  ques- 
tion ! " 

"  Do  I  look  as  if  I  were  going  to  die  ? " 

"  Surely  not !  I  have  rarely  seen  you  look- 
ing more  robust." 

"  Very  well !  When  I  am  dead,  you  may 
talk  to  me  about  Maria  and  her  two  daughters ; 
I  sha'n't  mind  it  then.  What  else  have  you 
got  to  say  ?  I  am  going  to  take  my  nap  soon, 
so  if  you  have  anything  more,  out  with  it ! " 

Miss  Vesta,  after  a  hurried  mental  review  of 
subjects  that  might  be  soothing,  made  a  snatch 
at  one. 

"  Doctor  Stedman  came  to  see  the  children 
off.  I  think  he  is  almost  as  sorry  to  lose 
Geoffrey  as  we  are.  It  is  a  real  pleasure  to 
see  him  looking  so  well  and  vigorous.  He 
really  looks  like  a  young  man." 

"  Don't  speak  to  me  of  James  Stedman ! " 


WEDDING  BELLS  23 

exclaimed  Mrs.  Tree.  "I  never  wish  to  hear 
his  name  again." 

"  Aunt  Marcia  !  dear  James  Stedman !  Our 
old  and  valued  friend ! " 

"  Old  and  valued  fiddlestick  !  Who  wanted 
him  to  come  back  ?  Why  couldn't  he  stay 
where  he  was,  and  poison  the  foreigners  ?  He 
might  have  been  of  some  use  there." 

Miss  Vesta  looked  distressed. 

"  Aunt  Marcia/'  she  said,  gently,  "  I  cannot 
feel  as  if  I  ought  to  let  even  you  speak  slight- 
ingly of  Doctor  Stedman.  Of  course  we  all 
feel  deeply  the  loss  of  dear  Geoffrey ;  I  am 
sure  no  one  can  feel  it  more  deeply  than  Phoebe 
and  I  do.  The  house  is  so  empty  without 
him ;  he  kept  it  full  of  sunshine  and  joy.  But 
that  should  not  make  us  forgetful  of  Doctor 
Stedman's  life-long  devotion  and  —  " 

"  Speaking  of  devotion,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  "  has 
he  asked  you  to  marry  him  yet  ?  How  many 
times  does  that  make  ? " 


24  MBS.    TREE 

Miss  Yesta  went  very  pink,  and  rose  from 
her  seat  with  a  gentle  dignity  which  was  her 
nearest  approach  to  anger. 

"  I  think  I  will  leave  you  now,  Aunt  Mar- 
cia,"  she  said.  "  I  will  come  again  to-morrow, 
when  you  are  more  composed.     Good-by." 

"Yes,  run  along!"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  and  her 
voice  softened  a  little.  "I  don't  want  you 
to-day,  Yesta,  that's  the  truth.  Send  me 
Phoebe,  or  Malvina  Weight.  I  want  something 
to  *chaw  on/  as  Direxia  said  just  now." 

"  The  dogs !  I  was  going  to  say,"  exclaimed 
Direxia,  using  one  of  her  strongest  expressions. 
"  You  never  heard  me,  now,  Mis'  Tree !  " 

"  I  never  hear  anything  else  ! "  said  the  old 
lady.  "  Go  away,  both  of  you,  and  let  me 
hear  myself  think." 


CHAPTER   II. 

MISS  phcebe's  opinions 

"I  cannot  see  that  your  aunt  looks  a  day 
older  than  she  did  twenty  years  ago,"  said  Dr. 
James  Stedman. 

Miss  Vesta  Blyth  looked  up  in  some  trepi- 
dation, and  the  soft  color  came  into  her  cheeks. 

"You  have  called  on  her,  then,  James," 
she  said.  "  I  am  truly  glad.  How  did  she  — 
that  is,  I  am  sure  she  was  rejoiced  to  see  you, 
as  every  one  in  the  village  is." 

Doctor  Stedman  chuckled,  and  pulled  his 
handsome  gray  beard.  "  She  may  have  been 
rejoiced,"  he  said  ;  "  I  trust  she  was.  She  said 
first  that  she  hoped  I  had  come  back  wiser 
than  I  went,  and  when  I  replied  that  I  hoped 
I  had  learned  a  little,  she  said  she  could  not 


26  MBS.    TREE 

abide  new-fangled  notions,  and  that  if  I  ex- 
pected to  try  any  experiments  on  her  I  would 
find  myself  mistaken.  Yes,  I  find  her  quite  un- 
changed, and  wholly  delightful.  What  amaz- 
ing vigor !  I  am  too  old  for  her,  that's  the 
trouble.  Young  Strong  is  far  more  her  con- 
temporary than  I  am.  Why,  she  is  as  much 
interested  in  every  aspect  of  life  as  any  boy  in 
the  village.  Before  I  left  I  had  told  her 
all  that  I  knew,  and  a  good  deal  that  I 
didn't." 

"  It  is  greatly  to  be  regretted,"  said  Miss 
Phoebe  Blyth,  pausing  in  an  intricate  part  of 
her  knitting,  and  looking  over  her  glasses  with 
mild  severity,  "it  is  greatly  to  be  regretted 
that  Aunt  Marcia  occupies  herself  so  largely 
with  things  temporal.  At  her  advanced  age, 
her  acute  interest  in  —  one,  two,  three,  purl  — 
in  worldly  matters,  appears  to  me  lamen- 
table." 

"I  often  think,   Sister  Phoebe,"  said   Miss 


MISS  PHOEBE'S   OPINIONS  27 

Vesta,  timidly,  "  that  it  is  her  interest  in  little 
things  that  keeps  Aunt  Marcia  so  wonderfully 
young." 

"  My  dear  Vesta,"  replied  Miss  Phoebe,  im- 
pressively, "at  ninety-one,  with  eternity,  if  I 
may  use  the  expression,  sitting  in  the  next 
room,  the  question  is  whether  any  assumption 
of  youthfulness  is  desirable.  For  my  own 
part,  I  cannot  feel  that  it  is.  I  said  something 
of  the  sort  to  Aunt  Marcia  the  other  day,  and 
she  replied  that  she  was  having  all  the  eternity 
she  desired  at  that  moment.  The  expression 
shocked  me,  I  am  bound  to  say." 

"Aunt  Marcia  does  not  always  mean  what 
she  says,  Sister  Phoebe." 

"  My  dear  Vesta,  if  she  does  not  mean  what 
she  says  at  her  age,  the  question  is,  when  will 
she  mean  it  ? " 

After  a  majestic  pause,  Miss  Phoebe  con- 
tinued, glancing  at  her  other  hearers: 

"I  should  be  the  last,  the  very  last,  to  re- 


28  MRS.    TREE 

fleet  upon  my  mother's  sister  in  general  con- 
versation ;  but  Doctor  Stedman  being  our 
family  physician  as  well  as  our  lifelong  friend, 
and  Cousin  Homer  one  of  the  family,  I  may 
without  impropriety,  I  trust,  dwell  on  a  point 
which  distresses  me  in  our  venerable  relation. 
Aunt  Marcia  is  —  I  grieve  to  use  a  harsh  ex- 
pression —  frivolous." 

Mr.  Homer  Hollopeter,  responding  to  Miss 
Phoebe's  glance,  cleared  his  throat  and  straight- 
ened his  long  back.  He  was  a  little  gentle- 
man, and  most  of  what  height  he  had  was 
from  the  waist  upward ;  his  general  aspect 
was  one  of  waviness.  His  hair  was  long  and 
wavy ;  so  was  his  nose,  and  his  throat,  and  his 
shirt-collar.  In  his  youth  some  one  had  told 
him  that  he  resembled  Keats.  This  utterance, 
taken  with  the  name  bestowed  on  him  by  an 
ambitious  mother  with  literary  tastes,  had 
colored  his  whole  life.  He  was  assistant  in 
the  post-office,  and  lived  largely  on  the  imagi- 


MISS  PHCEBE'S   OPINIONS  29 

nary  romance  of  the  letters  which  passed 
through  his  hands;  he  also  played  the  flute, 
wrote  verses,  and  admired  his  cousin  Phoebe. 

"  I  have  often  thought  it  a  pity,"  said  Mr. 
Homer,  "  that  Cousin  Marcia  should  not  apply 
herself  more  to  literary  pursuits." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean  by  literary 
pursuits,  Homer,"  said  Doctor  Stedman,  rather 
gruffly.  "I  found  her  the  other  day  reading 
Johnson's  Dictionary  by  candlelight,  without 
glasses.  I  thought  that  was  doing  pretty  well 
for  ninety-one." 

"I  —  a  —  was  thinking  more  about  other 
branches  of  literature,"  Mr.  Homer  admitted. 
"  The  Muse,  James,  the  Muse !  Cousin  Mar- 
cia takes  little  interest  in  poetry.  If  she 
could  sprinkle  the  —  a  —  pathway  to  the 
tomb  with  blossoms  of  poesy,  it  would 
be  "  ■ —  he  waved  his  hands  gently  abroad  — 
"  smoother ;  less  rough ;  more  devoid  of  irregu- 
larities." 


30  MRS.    TEES 

"Cousin  Homer,  could  you  find  it  conve- 
nient not  to  rock  ? "  asked  Miss  Phoebe,  with 
stately  courtesy. 

"  Certainly,  Cousin  Phoebe.  I  beg  your 
pardon." 

It  was  one  of  Miss  Phoebe's  crosses  that  Mr. 
Homer  would  always  sit  in  this  particular 
chair,  and  would  rock ;  the  more  so  that  when 
not  engaged  in  conversation  he  was  apt  to 
open  and  shut  his  mouth  in  unison  with  the 
motion  of  the  rockers.  Miss  Phoebe  disap- 
proved of  rocking-chairs,  and  would  gladly 
have  banished  this  one,  had  it  not  belonged  to 
her  mother. 

"  I  have  occasionally  offered  to  read  to 
Cousin  Marcia,"  Mr.  Homer  continued,  "  from 
the  works  of  Keats  and  —  other  bards ;  but 
she  has  uniformly  received  the  suggestion  in  a 
spirit  of  —  mockery ;  of  —  derision  ;  of  —  con- 
tumely. The  last  time  I  mentioned  it,  she  ex- 
claimed '  Cat's  foot ! '     The  expression  struck 


MISS   PHCEBE'S    OPINIONS  31 

me,  I  confess,  as  —  strange ;  as  —  singular ;  as 
—  extraordinary." 

"It  is  an  old-fashioned  expression,  Cousin 
Homer,"  Miss  Vesta  put  in,  gently.  "  I  have 
heard  our  Grandmother  Darracott  use  it,  Sister 
Phoebe." 

"  There's  nothing  improper  in  it,  is  there  ? " 
said  Doctor  Stedman. 

"  Keally,  my  dear  James,"  said  Miss  Phoebe, 
bending  a  literally  awful  brow  on  her  guest, 
"  I  trust  not.  Do  you  mean  to  imply  that  the 
conversation  of  gentlewomen  of  my  aunt's  age 
is  apt  to  be  improper  ? " 

"No,  no,"  said  Doctor  Stedman,  easily. 
"  It  only  seemed  to  me  that  you  were  making 
a  good  deal  of  Mrs.  Tree's  little  eccentricities. 
But,  Phoebe,  you  said  something  a  few  minutes 
ago  that  I  was  very  glad  to  hear.  It  is  pleas- 
ant to  know  that  I  am  still  your  family  physi- 
cian. That  young  fellow  who  went  off  the 
other  day  seems  to  have  taken   every   heart 


32  MRS.    TREE 

in  the  village  in  his  pocket.  A  young 
rascal ! " 

Miss  Phoebe  colored  and  drew  herself  up. 

"  Sister  Phoebe,"  Miss  Yesta  breathed  rather 
than  spoke,  "James  is  in  jest.  He  has  the 
highest  opinion  of  —  " 

"Yesta,  I  think  I  have  my  senses,"  said 
Miss  Phoebe,  kindly.  "  I  have  heard  James 
use  exaggerated  language  before.  Candor 
compels  me  to  admit,  James,  that  I  have 
benefited  greatly  by  the  advice  and  prescrip- 
tions of  Doctor  Strong;  also  that,  though  de- 
ploring certain  aspects  of  his  conduct  while 
under  our  roof  —  I  will  say  no  more,  having 
reconciled  myself  entirely  to  the  outcome  of 
the  matter- — we  have  become  deeply  attached 
to  him.  He  is  "  —  Miss  Phoebe's  voice  qua- 
vered slightly  —  "  he  is  a  chosen  spirit." 

"  Dear  Geoffrey  !  "  murmured  Miss  Yesta. 

"But  in  spite  of  this,"  Miss  Phoebe  con- 
tinued, graciously,  "  we  feel  the  ties  of  ancient 


MISS  PHCEBE'S   OPINIONS  33 

friendship  as  strongly  as  ever,  James,  and 
must  always  value  you  highly,  whether  as 
physician  or  as  friend." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  dear  James,"  said  Miss  Yesta, 
softly. 

Doctor  Stedman  rose  from  his  seat.  His 
eyes  were  very  tender  as  he  looked  at  the 
sisters  from  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows. 

"  Good  girls  ! "  he  said.  "  I  couldn't  afford 
to  lose  my  best  —  patients."  He  straightened 
his  broad  shoulders  and  looked  round  the 
room.  "When  I  saw  anything  new  over 
there,"  he  said,  "  castle  or  picture-gallery  or 
cathedral,  —  whatever  it  was,  —  I  always  com- 
pared it  with  this  room,  and  it  never  stood  the 
comparison  for  an  instant.  Pleasantest  place 
in  the  world,  to  my  thinking." 

Miss  Phoebe  beamed  over  her  spectacles. 
"  You  pay  us  a  high  compliment,  James,"  she 
said.  "  It  is  pleasant  indeed  to  feel  that  home 
still  seems  best  to  you.     I  confess  that,  great 


34  MRS.    TREE 

as  are  the  treasures  of  art,  and  magnificent  as 
are  the  monuments  in  the  cities  of  Europe, 
I  have  always  felt  that  as  places  of  residence 
they  would  not  compare  favorably  with 
Elmerton." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Doctor  Stedman,  "  quite 
right ! "  and  though  his  eyes  twinkled,  he 
spoke  with  conviction. 

"The  cities  of  Europe,"  Mr.  Homer  ob- 
served, "can  hardly  be  suited,  as  places  of 
residence,  to  —  a  —  persons  of  literary  taste. 
There  is  "  —  he  waved  his  hands  —  "  too  much 
noise ;  too  much  —  sound ;  too  much  —  ab- 
sence of  tranquillity.  I  could  wish,  though, 
to  have  seen  the  grave  of  Keats." 

"  I  brought  you  a  leaf  from  his  grave, 
Homer,"  said  Doctor  Stedman,  kindly.  "I 
have  it  at  home,  in  my  pocketbook.  I'll 
bring  it  down  to  the  office  to-morrow.  I  went 
to  the  burying-ground  on  purpose." 

"  Did  you  so  ? "  exclaimed  Mr.  Homer,  his 


MISS  PHCEBE'S   OPINIONS  35 

mild  face  growing  radiant  with  pleasure. 
"  That  was  kind,  James ;  that  was  —  friendly ; 
that  was  —  benevolent !  I  shall  value  it 
highly,  highly.  I  thank  you,  James.  I  — 
since  you  are  interested  in  the  lamented 
Keats,  perhaps  you  would  like"  —  his  hand 
went  with  a  fluttering  motion  to  his  pocket. 

"I  must  go  now,"  said  Doctor  Stedman, 
hastily.  "I've  stayed  too  long  already,  but 
I  never  know  how  to  get  away  from  this 
house.  Good  night,  Phoebe!  Good  night, 
Vesta !  You  are  looking  a  little  tired ;  take 
care  of  yourself.  'Night,  Homer;  see  you  to- 
morrow ! " 

He  shook  hands  heartily  all  around  and 
was  gone. 

Mr.  Homer  sighed  gently.  "  It  is  a  great 
pity,"  he  said,  "  with  his  excellent  disposition, 
that  James  will  never  interest  himself  in  liter- 
ary pursuits." 

His   hand   was    still    fluttering   about   his 


36  MRS.    TREE 

pocket,  and  there  was  an  unspoken  appeal  in 
his  mild  brown  eyes. 

"Have  you  brought  something  to  read  to 
us,  Cousin  Homer?"  asked  Miss  Phoebe,  be- 
nevolently. 

Mr.  Homer  with  alacrity  drew  a  folded 
paper  from  his  pocket. 

"  This  is  —  you  may  be  aware,  Cousin 
Phoebe  —  the  anniversary  of  the  birth  of  the 
lamented  Keats.  I  always  like  to  pay  some 
tribute  to  his  memory  on  these  occasions,  and 
I  have  here  a  slight  thing  —  I  tossed  it 
off  after  breakfast  this  morning  —  which  I 
confess  I  should  like  to  read  to  you.  You 
know  how  highly  I  value  your  opinion, 
Cousin  Phoebe,  and  some  criticism  may  sug- 
gest itself  to  you,  though  I  trust  that  in 
the  main  —  but  you  shall  judge  for  your- 
self." 

He  cleared  his  throat,  adjusted  his  spec- 
tacles, and  began : 


MISS  PHCEBE'S   OPINIONS  37 

"  Thoughts  suggested  by  the  Anniversary  of 
the  Natal  Day  of  the  poet  Keats." 

"  Could  you  find  it  convenient  not  to  rock, 
Cousin  Homer  ? "  said  Miss  Phoebe. 

"  By  all  means,  Cousin  Phoebe.  I  beg  your 
pardon.  'Thoughts'  —  but  I  need  not  repeat 
the  title. 

"  I  asked  the  Muse  if  she  had  one 
Thrice-favored  son, 
Or  if  some  one  poetic  brother 

Appealed  to  her  more  than  another. 
She  gazed  on  me  with  aspect  high, 

And  tear  in  eye, 
While  musically  she  repeats, 
<  Keats ! ' 

"  She  gave  me  then  to  understand, 
And  smiled  bland, 
On  Helicon  the  sacred  Nine 

Occasionally  ask  bards  to  dine. 
« For  most,'  she  said,  <  we  do  not  move, 

Though  we  approve  ; 
For  one  alone  we  leave  our  seats  : 
"Keats!"'" 


38  MRS.    TREE 

There  was  a  silence  after  the  reading  of  the 
poem.  Mr.  Homer,  slightly  flushed  with  his 
own  emotions,  gazed  eagerly  at  Miss  Phoebe, 
who  sat  very  erect,  the  tips  of  her  fingers 
pressed  together,  her  whole  air  that  of  a  judge 
about  to  give  sentence.  Miss  Vesta  looked 
somewhat  disturbed,  yet  she  was  the  first  to 
speak,  murmuring  softly,  "  The  feeling  is  very 
genuine,  I  am  sure,  Cousin  Homer ! "  But 
Miss  Phoebe  was  ready  now. 

"  Cousin  Homer,"  she  said,  "  since  you  ask 
for  criticism,  I  feel  bound  to  give  it.  You 
speak  of  the  '  sacred '  Nine.  The  word  sacred 
appears  to  me  to  belong  distinctly  to  religious 
matters ;  I  cannot  think  that  it  should  be  em- 
ployed in  speaking  of  pagan  divinities.  The 
expression  —  I  am  sorry  to  speak  strongly  — 
shocks  me ! " 

Mr.  Homer  looked  pained,  and  opened  and 
shut  his  mouth  several  times. 

"  It  is  an  expression  that  is  frequently  used, 


MISS  PHCEBE'S   OPINIONS  39 

Cousin  Phoebe,"  he  said.  "  All  the  poets  make 
use  of  it,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  do  not  doubt  it  in  the  least,"  said  Miss 
Phoebe.  "  The  poets  —  with  a  few  notable 
exceptions  —  are  apt  to  be  deplorably  lax  in 
such  matters.  If  you  would  confine  your 
reading  of  poetry,  Cousin  Homer,  to  the  works 
of  such  poets  as  Mrs.  Hemans,  Archbishop 
Trench,  and  the  saintly  Keble,  you  would  not 
incur  the  danger  of  being  led  away  into  un- 
suitable vagaries." 

"But  Keats,  Cousin  Phoebe,"  began  Mr. 
Homer;  Miss  Phoebe  checked  him  with  a 
wave  of  her  hand. 

"Cousin  Homer,  I  have  already  intimated 
to  you,  on  several  occasions,  that  I  cannot  dis- 
cuss the  poet  Keats  with  you.  I  am  aware 
that  he  is  considered  an  eminent  poet,  but  I 
have  not  reached  my  present  age  without 
realizing  that  many  works  may  commend 
themselves  to  even  the  most  refined  of   the 


40  MBS.    TREE 

masculine  sex  which  are  wholly  unsuitable  for 
ladies.  We  will  change  the  subject,  if  you 
please ;  but  before  doing  so,  let  me  earnestly 
entreat  you  to  remove  the  word  '  sacred '  from 
your  poem." 


CHAPTER   III. 

INTRODUCING     TOMMY     CANDY     AND     SOLOMON, 
HIS   GRANDFATHER 

"Here's  that  boy  again!"  said  Direxia 
Hawkes. 

"What  boy?"  asked  Mrs.  Tree;  but  her 
eyes  brightened  as  she  spoke,  and  she  laid 
down  her  book  with  an  expectant  air. 

"  Tommy  Candy.  I  told  him  I  guessed  you 
couldn't  be  bothered  with  him,  but  he's  there." 

"  Show  him  in.  Come  in,  child !  Don't 
sidle!  You  are  not  a  crab.  Come  here  and 
make  your  manners." 

The  boy  advanced  slowly,  but  not  unwill- 
ingly. He  was  an  odd-looking  child,  with 
spiky  black  hair,  a  mouth  like  a  circus  clown, 
and  gray  eyes  that  twinkled  almost  as  brightly 
as  Mrs.  Tree's  own. 

41 


42  MRS.    TREE 

The  gray  eyes  and  the  black  exchanged  a 
look  of  mutual  comprehension.  "  How  do  you 
do,  Thomas  Candy  ? "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  formally, 
holding  out  her  little  hand  in  its  white  lace 
mitt.  It  was  afternoon,  and  she  was  dressed 
to  receive  callers. 

"  Shake  hands  as  if  you  meant  it,  boy !  I 
said  shake  hands,  not  flap  nippers ;  you  are  not 
a  seal.  There  !  that's  better.  How  do  you  do, 
Thomas  Candy  ? " 

"  How  -do  -you  -do  -Missis  -Tree  -I'm  -pretty  - 
well-thank-you-and-hope-you-are-the-same." 

Having  uttered  this  sentiment  as  if  it 
were  one  word,  Master  Candy  drew  a  long 
breath,  and  said  in  a  different  tone,  "I 
came  to  see  the  bird  and  hear  'bout  Grampy ; 
can  I  ? " 

"  May  I,  not  can  I,  Tommy  Candy !  You 
mayn't  see  the  bird ;  he's  having  his  nap,  and 
doesn't  like  to  be  disturbed ;  but  you  may  hear 
about   your   grandfather.      Sit    down    on   the 


INTRODUCING   TOMMY  CANDY        43 

stool  there.  Open  the  drawer,  and  see  if 
there  is  anything  in  it." 

The  boy  obeyed  with  alacrity.  The  drawer 
(it  belonged  to  a  sandalwood  table,  inlaid 
with  chess-squares  of  pearl  and  malachite), 
being  opened,  proved  to  contain  burnt  almonds 
in  an  ivory  box,  and  a  silver  saucer  full  of 
cubes  of  fig-paste,  red  and  white.  Tommy 
Candy  seemed  to  find  words  unequal  to  the 
situation;  he  gave  Mrs.  Tree  an  eloquent 
glance,  then  obeyed  her  nod  and  helped  him- 
self to  both  sweetmeats. 

"  Good  ? "  inquired  Mrs.  Tree. 

"  Bully  ! "  said  Tommy. 

"  Now,  what  do  you  want  to  hear  ? " 

"About  Grampy." 

"What  about  him?" 

"  Everything !  like  what  you  told  me  last 
time." 

There  was  a  silence  of  perfect  peace  on  one 
side,  of  reflection  on  the  other. 


44  MBS.    TREE 

"  Solomon  Candy,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  presently, 
"  was  the  worst  boy  I  ever  knew." 

Tommy  grinned  gleefully,  his  mouth  curv* 
ing  up  to  his  nose,  and  rumpled  his  spiky  hair 
with  a  delighted  gesture. 

"Nobody  in  the  village  had  any  peace  of 
their  lives,"  the  old  lady  went  on,  "  on  account 
of  that  boy  and  my  brother  Tom.  We  went 
to  school  together,  in  the  little  red  schoolhouse 
that  used  to  stand  where  the  academy  is  now. 
We  were  always  friends,  Solomon  and  I,  and 
he  never  played  tricks  on  me,  more  than  tying 
my  pigtail  to  the  back  of  the  bench,  and  the 
like  of  that;  but  woe  betide  those  that  he 
didn't  take  a  fancy  to.  I  can  hear  Sally  Am 
drews  now,  when  she  found  the  frog  in  her 
desk.  It  jumped  right  into  her  face,  and  fell 
into  her  apron-pocket,  —  we  wore  aprons  with 
big  pockets  then,  —  and  she  screamed  so  she 
had  to  be  taken  home.  That  was  the  kind  of 
prank  Solomon  was  up  to,  every  day  of  hi& 


INTRODUCING   TOMMY  CANDY         45 

life ;  and  fishing  for  schoolmaster's  wig  through 
the  skylight,  and  every  crinkum-crankum  that 
ever  was.  Master  Bayley  used  to  go  to  sleep 
every  recess,  and  the  skylight  was  just  over 
his  head.  Dear  me,  Sirs,  how  that  wig  did 
look,  sailing  up  into  the  air  ! " 

"  I  wish't  ours  wore  a  wig ! "  said  Tommy, 
thoughtfully ;  then  his  eyes  brightened.  "  Isaac 
Weight's  skeered  of  frogs  I "  he  said.  "  The 
apron-pockets  made  it  better,  though,  of  course. 
More,  please ! " 

"  Isaac  Weight  ?  That's  the  deacon's  eldest 
brat,  isn't  it  ? " 

"  Yes'm ! " 

"His  grandfather  was  named  Isaac,  too," 
said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  This  one  is  named  for  him, 
I  suppose.  Isaac  Weight-— the  first  one  — 
was  called  Squash-nose  at  school,  I  remember. 
He  wasn't  popular,  and  I  understand  Ephraim, 
his  son,  wasn't  either.  They  called  him  Meal- 
bag,  and  he  looked  it.     Te-hee  ! "  she  laughed, 


46  MRS.    TREE 

a  little  dry  keckle,  like  the  click  of  castanets. 
"  Did  ever  I  tell  you  the  trick  your  grandfather 
and  my  brother  played  on  old  Elder  Weight 
and  Squire  Tree  ?  That  was  great-grandfather 
to  this  present  Weight  boy,  and  uncle  to  my 
husband.  The  old  squire  was  high  in  his 
notions,  very  high;  he  thought  but  little  of 
Weights,  though  he  sat  under  Elder  Weight 
at  that  time.  The  Weights  were  a  good  stock 
in  the  beginning,  I've  been  told,  but  even  then 
they  had  begun  to  go  down-hill.  It  was  one 
summer,  and  Conference  was  held  here  in 
Elmerton.  The  meetings  were  very  long,  and 
every  soul  went  that  could.  Elmerton  was  a 
pious  place  in  those  days.  The  afternoon 
sessions  began  at  two  o'clock  and  lasted  till 
seven.  Their  brains  must  have  been  made  of 
iron  —  or  wood."  Mrs..  Tree  clicked  her  cas- 
tanets again. 

"  Well,  sir,  the  last  day  there  was  a  sight  of 
business,  and  folks  knew  the  afternoon  meet- 


INTRODUCING   TOMMY  CANDY        47 

ing  would  be  extra  long.  Elder  Weight  and 
his  wife  (she  was  a  Bonny ;  he'd  never  have 
been  chosen  elder  if  it  hadn't  been  for  her) 
were  off  in  good  season,  and  locked  the  door 
behind  them ;  they  kept  no  help  at  that  time. 
The  squire  was  off  too,  who  but  he,  stepping 
up  the  street  —  dear  me,  Sirs,  I  can  see  him 
now,  in  his  plum-colored  coat  and  knee- 
breeches,  silk  stockings  and  silver  buckles  to  his 
shoes.  He  had  a  Malacca  cane,  I  remember, 
with  a  big  ivory  knob  on  it,  and  he  washed 
it  night  and  morning  as  if  it  were  a  baby.  He 
was  a  very  particular  man,  had  his  shirt-frills 
done  up  with  a  silver  friller.  Well,  those 
boys,  Solomon  Candy  and  Tom  Darracott 
(that  was  my  brother),  watched  till  they  saw 
them  safe  in  at  the  meeting-house  door,  and 
then  they  set  to  work.  There  was  no  one 
in  the  parsonage  except  the  cat,  and  at  the 
Homestead  there  was  only  the  housekeeper,  who 
was   deaf   as   Dagon,  well   they  knew.     The 


48  MBS.    TBEE 

other  servants  had  leave  to  go  to  meeting; 
every  one  went  that  could,  as  I  said.  Tom 
knew  his  way  all  over  the  Homestead,  our 
house  being  next  door.  No,  it's  not  there 
now.  It  was  burned  down  fifty  years  ago, 
and  Tom's  dead  as  long.  They  took  our  old 
horse  and  wagon,  and  they  slipped  in  at  the 
window  of  the  squire's  study,  took  out  his 
things,  —  his  desk  and  chair,  his  footstool,  the 
screen  he  always  kept  between  him  and  the 
fire,  and  dear  knows  what  all,  —  and  loaded 
them  up  on  the  wagon.  They  worked  twice 
as  hard  at  that  imp's  doing  as  they  would  at 
honest  work,  you  may  be  bound.  Then  they 
drove  down  to  the  parsonage  with  the  load, 
and  tried  round  till  they  found  a  window  un- 
fastened, and  in  they  carried  every  single  thing, 
into  the  elder's  study,  and  then  loaded  up  with 
his  rattletraps,  and  back  to  the  Homestead. 
Working  like  beavers  they  were,  every  minute 
of  the  afternoon.     By  five  o'clock  they  had 


INTRODUCING    TOMMY  CANDY         49 

their  job  done;  and  then  in  goes  Tom  and 
asks  dear  old  Grandmother  Darracott,  who 
could  not  leave  her  room,  and  thought  every 
fox  was  a  cosset  lamb,  did  she  think  father 
and  mother  (they  were  at  the  meeting  too,  of 
course)  would  let  him  and  Sol  Candy  go  and 
take  tea  and  spend  the  night  at  Plum-tree 
Farm,  three  miles  off,  where  our  old  nurse 
lived.  Grandmother  said  'Yes,  to  be  sure!' 
for  she  was  always  pleased  when  the  children 
remembered  Nursey ;  so  off  those  two  Limbs 
went,  and  left  their  works  behind  them. 

"  Evening  came,  and  Conference  was  over  at 
last;  and  here  comes  the  squire  home,  step- 
ping along  proud  and  stately  as  ever,  but 
mortal  head-weary  under  the  pride  of  his  wig, 
for  he  was  an  old  man,  and  grudged  his  age, 
never  sparing  himself.  He  went  straight  into 
his  study  —  it  was  dusk  by  now  —  and  dropped 
into  the  first  chair,  and  so  to  sleep.  By  and 
by  old  Martha  came  and  lighted  the  candles, 


50  MBS.    TREE 

but  she  never  noticed  anything.  Why  peo- 
ple's wits  should  wear  out  like  old  shoes  is  a 
thing  I  never  could  understand ;  unless  they're 
made  of  leather  in  the  first  place,  and  some- 
times it  seems  so.  The  squire  had  his  nap 
out,  I  suppose,  and  then  he  woke  up.  When 
he  opened  his  eyes,  there  in  front  of  him,  in- 
stead of  his  tall  mahogany  desk,  was  a  ram- 
shackle painted  thing,  with  no  handles  to  the 
drawers,  and  all  covered  with  ink.  He  looked 
round,  and  what  does  he  see  but  strange 
things  everywhere ;  strange  to  his  eyes,  and 
yet  he  knew  them.  There  was  a  haircloth 
sofa  and  three  chairs,  and  on  the  walls,  in 
place  of  his  fine  prints,  was  a  picture  of  Elder 
Weight's  father,  and  a  couple  of  mourning 
pictures,  weeping-willows  and  urns  and  the 
like,  and  Abraham  and  Isaac  done  in  worsted- 
work,  that  he'd  seen  all  his  days  in  the 
parsonage  parlor.  Very  likely  they  are  there 
still." 


INTRODUCING   TOMMY  CANDY         51 

"  Yes/'  said  Tommy, "  I  see  'em  in  his  settin'- 
room." 

"  Saw,  not  see  !  "  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  Your 
grandfather  spoke  better  English  than  you  do, 
Tommy  Candy.  Learn  grammar  while  you  are 
young,  or  you'll  never  learn  it.  Well,  sir,  the 
next  I  know  is,  I  was  sitting  in  my  high  chair 
at  supper  with  father  and  mother,  when  the 
door  opens  and  in  walks  the  old  squire.  His 
eyes  were  staring  wild,  and  his  wig  cocked 
over  on  one  ear  —  he  was  a  sight  to  be- 
hold! He  stood  in  the  door,  and  cried 
out  in  a  loud  voice,  '  Thomas  Darracott, 
who  am  I  ? ' 

"My  father  was  a  quiet  man,  and  slow  to 
speak,  and  his  first  thought  was  that  the 
squire  had  lost  his  wits. 

" '  Who  are  you,  neighbor  ? '  he  says.  c  Come 
in ;  come  in,  and  we'll  see.' 

"The  squire  rapped  with  his  stick  on  the 
floor.     '  Who  am  I  ? '  he  shouted  out.     f  Am  I 


52  MBS.    TREE 

Jonathan  Tree,  or  am  I  that  thundering,  blun- 
dering gogglepate,  Ebenezer  Weight  ? ' 

"  Well,  well !  the  words  were  hardly  out  of 
his  mouth  when  there  was  a  great  noise  out- 
side, and  in  comes  Elder  Weight  with  his  wife 
after  him,  and  he  in  a  complete  caniption, 
screeching  that  he  was  possessed  of  a  devil, 
and  desired  the  prayers  of  the  congrega- 
tion. (My  father  was  senior  deacon  at  that 
time.) 

"  '  I  have  broken  the  tenth  commandment ! ' 
he  cried.  '  I  have  coveted  Squire  Tree's  desk 
and  furniture,  and  now  I  see  the  appearance  of 
them  in  mine  own  room,  and  I  know  that 
Satan  has  me  fast  in  his  grip.' 

"  Ah,  well !  It's  not  good  for  you  to  hear 
these  things,  Tommy  Candy.  Solomon  was  a 
naughty  boy,  and  Tom  Darracott  was  another, 
and  they  well  deserved  the  week  of  bread  and 
water  they  got.  I  expect  you  make  a  third,  if 
all  was  told.    They  grew  up  good  men,  though, 


INTRODUCING   TOMMY  CANDY         53 

and  mind  you  do  the  same.  Have  you  eaten 
all  the  almonds  ? " 

" '  Most  all ! "  said  Tommy,  modestly. 

"  Put  the  rest  in  your  pocket,  then,  and  run 
along  and  ask  Direxia  to  give  you  a  spice- 
cake.  Leave  the  fig-paste.  The  bird  likes  a 
bit  with  his  supper.  What  are  you  thinking 
of,  Tommy  Candy  ? " 

Tommy  rumpled  his  spiky  hair,  and  gave 
her  an  elfish  glance.  "Candys  don't  seem  to 
like  Weightses,"  he  said.  "  Grampy  didn't,  nor 
Dad  don't ;  nor  I  don't." 

"Here,  you  may  have  the  fig-paste,"  said 
the  old  lady.  "  Shut  the  drawer.  Mind  you, 
Solomon,  nor  Tom  either,  ever  did  them  any 
real  harm.  Solomon  was  a  kind  boy,  only 
mischievous  —  that  was  all  the  harm  there 
was  to  him.  Even  when  he  painted  Isaac 
Weight's  nose  in  stripes,  he  meant  no 
harm  in  the  world ;  but  'twas  naughty  all 
the    same.      He    said    he    did    it    to    make 


54  MRS.    TREE 

him  look  prettier,  and  I  don't  know  but  it 
did.  Don't  you  do  any  such  things,  do  you 
hear  ? " 

"  Yes'm,"  said  Tommy  Candy. 


CHAPTEE   IV. 

OLD   FRIENDS 

It  was  drawing  on  toward  supper-time,  of  a 
chill  October  day.  Mrs.  Tree  was  sitting  in 
the  twilight,  as  she  loved  to  do,  her  little  feet 
on  the  fender,  her  satin  skirt  tucked  up  dain- 
tily, a  Chinese  hand-screen  in  her  hand.  It 
seemed  unlikely  that  the  moderate  heat  of  the 
driftwood  fire  would  injure  her  complexion, 
which  consisted  chiefly  of  wrinkles,  as  has 
been  said;  but  she  always  had  shielded  her 
face  from  the  fire,  and  she  always  would  — 
it  was  the  proper  thing  to  do.  The  parlor 
gloomed  and  lightened  around  her,  the  shifting 
light  touching  here  a  bit  of  gold  lacquer,  there 
a  Venetian  mirror  or  an  ivory  statuette.  The 
fire  purred  and  crackled  softly ;  there  was  no 

55 


56  MRS.    TREE 

other  sound.  The  tiny  figure  in  the  ebony 
chair  was  as  motionless  as  one  of  the  Indian 
idols  that  grinned  at  her  from  her  mantel- 
shelf. 

A  ring  at  the  door-bell,  the  shuffling 
sound  of  Direxia's  soft  shoes;  then  the  open- 
ing door,  and  a  man's  voice  asking  some 
question. 

In  an  instant  Mrs.  Tree  sat  live  and  alert, 
her  ears  pricked,  her  eyes  black  points  of 
attention.  Direxia's  voice  responded,  peevish 
and  resistant,  refusing  something.  The  man 
spoke  again,  urging  some  plea. 

"  Direxia ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

"  Yes'm.  Jest  a  minute.  I'm  seeing  to 
something." 

"  Direxia  Hawkes ! " 

When  Mrs.  Tree  used  both  names,  Direxia 
knew  what  it  meant.  She  appeared  at  the 
parlor  door,  flushed  and  defiant. 

"  How  you  do  pester  me,  Mis'  Tree !    There's 


OLD  FRIENDS  57 

a  man  at  the  door,  a  tramp,  and  I  don't  want 
to  leave  him  alone." 

"  What  does  he  look  like  ? " 

"  I  don't  know ;  he's  a  tramp,  if  he's  noth- 
ing worse.  Wants  something  to  eat.  Most 
likely  he's  stealin'  the  umbrellas  while  here  I 
stand ! " 

"  Show  him  in  here,"  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

"  What  say  ? " 

"'  Show  him  in  here ;  and  don't  pretend  to 
be  deaf,  when  you  hear  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  The  dogs  —  I  was  going  to  say !  You 
don't  want  him  in  here,  Mis'  Tree.  He's  a 
tramp,  I  tell  ye,  and  the  toughest-lookin'  —  " 

"Will  you  show  him  in  here,  or  shall  I 
come  and  fetch  him  ? " 

"  Well !  of  all  the  cantankerous  —  here  ! 
come  in,  you!  she  wants  to  see  you!"  and 
Direxia,  holding  the  door  in  her  hand,  beck- 
oned angrily  to  some  one  invisible.  There 
was  a  murmur,  a  reluctant  shuffle,  and  a  man 


58  MRS.    TBEE 

appeared  in  the  doorway  and  stood  lowering, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground;  a  tall,  slight 
man,  with  stooping  shoulders,  and  delicate 
pointed  features.  He  was  shabbily  dressed, 
yet  there  was  something  fastidious  in  his  air, 
and  it  was  noticeable  that  the  threadbare 
clothes  were  clean. 

Mrs.  Tree  looked  at  him;  looked  again. 
"  What  do  you  want  here  ? "  she  asked, 
abruptly. 

The  man's  eyes  crept  forward  to  her  little 
feet,  resting  on  the  brass  fender,  and  stopped 
there. 

"I    asked    for    food"    he    said.      "I    am 
hungry." 

"  Are  you  a  tramp  ? " 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  Anything  else  ? " 

The  man  was  silent. 

"  There ! "  said  Direxia,  impatiently.  "  That'll 
do.     Come  out  into  the  kitchen  and  I'll  give 


OLD  FRIENDS  59 

ye  something  in  a  bag,  and  you  can  take  it 
with  you." 

"  I  shall  be  pleased  to  have  you  take  supper 
with  me,  sir ! "  said  the  old  lady,  pointedly 
addressing  the  tramp.  "Direxia,  set  a  place 
for  this  gentleman." 

The  color  rushed  over  the  man's  face.  He 
started,  and  his  eyes  crept  half-way  up  the  old 
lady's  dress,  then  dropped  again. 

"I  —  cannot,  madam  ! "  he  said,  with  an 
effort.  "  I  thank  you,  but  you  must  excuse 
me." 

"  Why  can't  you  ? " 

This  time  the  eyes  travelled  as  far  as  the 
diamond  brooch,  and  rested  there  curiously. 

"  You  must  excuse  me  ! "  repeated  the  man, 
laboriously.  "  If  your  woman  will  give  me  a 
morsel  in  the  kitchen  —  or  —  I'd  better  go  at 
once  !  "  he  said,  breaking  off  suddenly.  "  Good 
evening ! " 

"  Stop  ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  striking  her  ebony 


60  MBS.    TREE 

stick  sharply  on  the  floor.  There  was  an  in- 
stant of  dead  silence,  no  one  stirring. 

"Direxia,"  she  added,  presently,  "go  and 
set  another  place  for  supper ! " 

Direxia  hesitated.  The  stick  struck  the 
floor  again,  and  she  vanished,  muttering. 

"  Shut  the  door ! "  Mrs.  Tree  commanded, 
addressing  the  stranger.  "  Come  here  and  sit 
down !  No,  not  on  that  cheer.  Take  the  otto- 
man with  the  bead  puppy  on  it.     There  ! " 

As  the  man  drew  forward  the  ottoman  with- 
out looking  at  it,  and  sat  down,  she  leaned 
back  easily  in  her  chair,  and  spoke  in  a  half- 
confidential  tone : 

"  I  get  crumpled  up,  sitting  here  alone. 
Some  day  I  shall  turn  to  wood.  I  like  a 
new  face  and  a  new  notion.  I  had  a  grand- 
son who  used  to  live  with  me,  and  I'm  lone- 
some since  he  died.  How  do  you  like 
tramping,  now  ? " 

"Pretty   well,"   said   the    man.     He    spoke 


OLD  FBIENDS  61 

over  his  shoulder,  and  kept  his  face  toward 
the  fire ;  it  was  a  chilly  evening.  "  It's  all 
right  in  summer,  or  when  a  man  has  his 
health." 

"  See  things,  hey  ? "  said  the  old  lady. 
"  New  folks,  new  faces  ?  Get  ideas ;  is  that 
it?" 

The  man  nodded  gloomily. 

"That  begins  it.  After  awhile — I  really 
think  I  must  go ! "  he  said,  breaking  off  short. 
"You  are  very  kind,  madam,  but  I  prefer  to 
go.     I  am  not  fit  —  " 

"  Cat's  foot ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  and  watched 
him  like  a  cat. 

He  fell  into  a  fit  of  helpless  laughter,  and 
laughed  till  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 
He  felt  for  a  pocket-handkerchief. 

"  Here's  one ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  and  handed 
him  a  gossamer  square.  He  took  it  mechan- 
ically. His  hand  was  long  and  slim  —  and 
clean. 


62  MBS.    TREE 

"  Supper's  ready  !  "  snapped  Direxia,  glower- 
ing in  at  the  door. 

"  I  will  take  your  arm,  if  you  please ! " 
said  Mrs.  Tree  to  the  tramp,  and  they  went 
in  to  supper  together. 

Mrs.  Tree's  dining-room,  like  her  parlor, 
was  a  treasury  of  rare  woods.  The  old  ma- 
hogany, rich  with  curious  brass-work,  shone 
darkly  brilliant  against  the  panels  of  satin- 
wood;  the  floor  was  a  mosaic  of  bits  from 
Captain  Tree's  woodpile,  as  he  had  been  used 
to  call  the  tumbled  heap  of  precious  fragments 
which  grew  after  every  voyage  to  southern  or 
eastern  islands.  The  room  was  lighted  by 
candles ;  Mrs.  Tree  would  have  no  other  light. 
Kerosene  she  called  nasty,  smelly  stuff,  and 
gas  a  stinking  smother.  She  liked  strong 
words,  especially  when  they  shocked  Miss 
Phoebe's  sense  of  delicacy.  As  for  electricity, 
Elmerton  knew  it  not  in  her  day.  t 

The  shabby  man  seemed  in  a  kind  of  dream. 


OLD  FRIENDS  63 

Half  unconsciously  he  put  the  old  lady  into 
her  seat  and  pushed  her  chair  up  to  the  table  ; 
then  at  a  sign  from  her  he  took  the  seat  oppo- 
site. He  laid  the  damask  napkin  across  his 
knees,  and  winced  at  the  touch  of  it,  as  at  the 
caress  of  a  long-forgotten  hand.  Mrs.  Tree 
talked  on  easily,  asking  questions  about  the 
roads  he  travelled  and  the  people  he  met.  He 
answered  as  briefly  as  might  be,  and  ate  spar- 
ingly. Still  in  a  dream,  he  took  the  cup  of 
tea  she  handed  him,  and  setting  it  down, 
passed  his  finger  over  the  handle.  It  was  a 
tiny  gold  Mandarin,  clinging  with  hands  and 
feet  to  the  side  of  the  cup.  The  man  gave 
another  helpless  laugh,  and  looked  about  him 
as  if  for  a  door  of  escape. 

Suddenly,  close  at  his  elbow,  a  voice  spoke ;  a 
harsh,  rasping  voice,  with  nothing  human  in  it. 

"  Old  friends  ! "  said  the  voice. 

The  man  started  to  his  feet,  white  as  the 
napkin  he  held. 


64  MRS.    TREE 

"  My  God  !  "  he  said,  violently. 

"  It's  only  the  parrot ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree, 
comfortably.  "  Sit  down  again.  There  he  is 
at  your  elbow.  Jocko  is  his  name.  He  does 
my  swearing  for  me.  My  grandson  and  a 
friend  of  his  taught  him  that,  and  I  have 
taught  him  a  few  other  things  beside.  Good 
Jocko  !  speak  up,  boy ! " 

"  Old  friends  to  talk ! "  said  the  parrot. 
"  Old  books  to  read ;  old  wine  to  drink ! 
Zooks  !  hooray  for  Arthur  and  Will !  they're 
the  boys ! " 

"  That  was  my  grandson  and  his  friend," 
said  the  old  lady,  never  taking  her  eyes  from 
the  man's  face.  "What's  the  matter?  feel 
faint,  hey?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  man.  He  was  leaning  on 
the  back  of  his  chair,  fighting  some  spasm  of 
feeling.  "  I  am  —  faint.  I  must  get  out  into 
the  air." 

The  old  lady  rose  briskly  and  came  to  his 


OLD  FRIENDS  65 

side.  "  Nothing  of  the  sort ! "  she  said.  "  You'll 
come  up-stairs  and  lie  down." 

"  No  i  no  !  no  ! "  cried  the  man,  and  with 
each  word  his  voice  rang  out  louder  and  sharper 
as  the  emotion  he  was  fighting  gripped  him 
closer.     "  Not  in  this  house.     Never  !  Never ! " 

"  Cat's  foot ! ,;  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  Don't  talk 
to  me !  Here  !  give  me  your  arm  !  Do  as  I 
say  !     There  !  " 

"  Old  friends  ! "  said  the  parrot. 

"  I'm  going  to  loose  the  bulldog,  Mis'  Tree," 
said  Direxia,  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs ;  "  and 
Deacon  Weight  says  he'll  be  over  in  two 
minutes." 

"There  isn't  any  dog  in  the  house,"  said 
Mrs.  Tree,  over  the  balusters,  "  and  Deacon 
Weight  is  at  Conference,  and  won't  be  back 
till  the  last  of  the  week.  That  will  do, 
Direxia ;  you  mean  well,  but  you  are  a  ninny- 
hammer.     This  way ! " 


66  MB  S.    TREE 

She  twitched  the  reluctant  arm  that  held 
hers,  and  they  entered  a  small  bedroom,  hung 
with  guns  and  rods. 

"  My  grandson's  room ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 
"He  died  here  —  hey?" 

The  stranger  had  dropped  her  arm  and 
stood  shaking,  staring  about  him  with  wild 
eyes.  The  ancient  woman  laid  her  hand  on 
his,  and  he  started  as  at  an  electric  shock. 

"  Come,  Willy,"  she  said,  "  he  down  and 
rest." 

He  was  at  her  feet  now,  half-crouching, 
half-kneeling,  holding  the  hem  of  her  satin 
gown  in  his  shaking  clutch,  sobbing  aloud, 
dry-eyed  as  yet. 

"  Come,  Willy,"  she  repeated,  "  lie  down  and 
rest  on  Arthur's  bed.     You  are  tired,  boy." 

"  I  came  — "  the  shaking  voice  steadied 
itself  into  words,  "  I  came  —  to  rob  you,  Mrs. 
Tree." 

"  Why,  so   I    supposed,   Will ;   at   least,   I 


OLD  FRIENDS  67 

thought  it  likely.  You  can  have  all  you 
want,  without  that  —  there's  plenty  for  you 
and  me.  Folks  call  me  close,  and  I  like  to 
do  what  I  like  with  my  own  money.  There's 
plenty,  I  tell  you,  for  you  and  me  and  the 
bird.  Do  you  think  he  knew  you,  Willy  ?  I 
believe  he  did." 

"  God  knows !  When  —  how  did  you  know 
me,  Mrs.  Tree  ? " 

"Get  up,  Willy  Jaquith,  and  I'll  tell  you. 
Sit  down ;  there's  the  chair  you  made  together, 
when  you  were  fifteen.  Bemember,  hey?  I 
knew  your  voice  at  the  door,  or  I  thought  I 
did.  Then  when  you  wouldn't  look  at  the 
bead  puppy,  I  hadn't  much  doubt ;  and  when 
I  said  '  Cat's  foot ! '  and  you  laughed,  I  knew 
for  sure.  You've  had  a  hard  time,  Willy,  but 
you're  the  same  boy." 

"  If  you  would  not  be  kind,"  said  the  man, 
"  I  think  it  would  be  easier.  You  ought  to 
give  me  up,  you  know,  and  let  me  go  to  jail. 


68  MBS.    TREE 

I'm  no  good.  I'm  a  vagrant  and  a  drunkard, 
and  worse.  But  you  won't,  I  know  that ;  so 
now  let  me  go.  I'm  not  fit  to  stay  in  Arthur's 
room  or  lie  on  his  bed.  Give  me  a  little  money, 
my  dear  old  friend  —  yes,  the  parrot  knew 
me  !  —  and  let  me  go  ! " 

"  Hark  ! "  said  the  old  woman. 

She  went  to  the  door  and  listened.  Her 
keen  old  face  had  grown  wonderfully  soft  in 
the  last  hour,  but  now  it  sharpened  and  hard- 
ened to  the  likeness  of  a  carved  hickory-nut. 

"  Somebody  at  the  door,"  she  said,  speaking 
low.     "  Malvina  Weight." 

She  came  back  swiftly  into  the  room. 
"That  press  is  full  of  Arthur's  clothes;  take 
a  bath  and  dress  yourself,  and  rest  awhile ; 
then  come  down  and  talk  to  me.  Yes,  you 
will !  Do  as  I  say  !  Willy  Jaquith,  if  you  try 
to  leave  this  house,  I'll  set  the  parrot  on  you. 
Eemember  the  day  he  bit  you  for  stealing  his 
apple,  and  served  you  right  ?     There's  the  scar 


OLD  FRIENDS  69 

still  on  your  cheek.  Greatest  wonder  he 
didn't  put  your  eyes  out!" 

She  slipped  out  and  closed  the  door  after 
her;  then  stood  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
listening. 

Mrs,  Ephraim  Weight,  a  ponderous  woman 
with  a  chronic  tremolo,  was  in  the  hall,  a 
knitted  shawl  over  her  head  and  shoulders. 

"  I've  waited  'most  an  hour  to  see  that  tramp 
come  out,"  she  was  saying.  "  Deacon's  away, 
and  I  was  scairt  to  death,  but  I'm  a  mother, 
and  I  had  to  come.  How  I  had  the  courage  I 
don't  know,  when  I  thought  you  and  Mis'  Tree 
might  meet  my  eyes  both  layin'  dead  in  this 
entry.  Where  is  he  ?  Don't  you  help  or  har- 
bor him  now,  Direxia  Hawkes  !  I  saw  his  evil 
eye  as  he  stood  on  the  doorstep,  and  I  knew 
by  the  way  he  peeked  and  peered  that  he  was 
after  no  good.  Where  is  he  ?  I  know  he 
didn't  go  out.  Hush !  don't  say  a  word  !  I'll 
slip  out   and  round  and  get  Hiram  Sawyer. 


70  MBS.    TREE 

My  boys  is  to  singing-school,  and  it  was  a 
Special  Ordering  that  I  happened  to  look  out 
of  window  just  that  moment  of  time.  Where 
did  you  say  he  —  " 

"  Oh,  do  let  me  speak,  Mis'  Weight ! "  broke 
in  Direxia,  in  a  shrill  half-whisper.  "Don't 
speak  so  loud !  She'll  hear  ye,  and  she's  in  one 
of  her  takings,  and  I  dono  —  lands  sakes,  I 
don't  know  what  io  do!  I  dono  who  he  is, 
or  whence  he  comes,  but  she  —  " 

"  Direxia  Hawkes  ! "  barked  Mrs.  Tree  from 
the  head  of  the  stairs. 

"  There  !  you  hear  her ! "  murmured  Direxia. 
"  Oh,  she  is  the  beat  of  all !  I'm  comin',  Mis' 
Tree ! " 

She  fled  up  the  stairs ;  her  mistress,  bend- 
ing forward,  darted  a  whispered  arrow  at 
her. 

"  Oh,  my  Solemn  Deliverance ! "  cried  Di- 
rexia Hawkes. 

"  Hot  water,  directly,  and  don't  make  a  fool 


OLD  FRIENDS  71 

of  yourself!"  said  Mrs.  Tree;  and  her  stick 
tapped  its  way  down-stairs. 

"Good  evening,  Malvina.  What  can  I  do 
for  you  ?     Pray  step  in." 

Mrs.  Weight  sidled  into  the  parlor  before  a 
rather  awful  wave  of  the  ebony  stick,  and  sat 
down  on  the  edge  of  a  chair  near  the  door. 
Mrs.  Tree  crossed  the  room  to  her  own  high- 
backed  armchair,  took  her  seat  deliberately, 
put  her  feet  on  the  crimson  hassock,  and 
leaned  forward,  resting  her  hands  on  the 
crutch-top  of  her  stick,  and  her  chin  on  her 
hands.  In  this  attitude  she  looked  more 
elfin  than  human,  and  the  light  that  danced 
in  her  black  eyes  was  not  of  a  reassuring 
nature. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  "  she  repeated. 

Mrs.  Weight  bridled,  and  spoke  in  a  tone 
half-timid,  half-defiant. 

"  I'm  sure,  Mis'  Tree,  it's  not  on  my  own 
account  I  come.     I'm  the  last  one  to  intrude, 


72  MRS.    TREE 

as  any  one  in  this  village  can  tell  you.  But 
you  are  an  anncient  woman,  and  your  neigh- 
bors are  bound  to  protect  you  when  need  is. 
I  see  that  tramp  come  in  here  with  my  own 
eyes,  and  he's  here  for  no  good." 

"  What  tramp  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Tree. 

"  Good  land,  Mis'  Tree,  didn't  you  see  him  ? 
He  slipped  right  in  past  Direxia.  I  see  him 
with  these  eyes." 

"When?" 

"'Most  an  hour  ago.  I've  been  watching 
ever  since.  Don't  tell  me  you  didn't  know 
about  him  bein'  here,  Mis'  Tree,  now  don't." 

"  I  won't,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  benevolently. 

"  He's  hid  away  somewheres  ! "  Mrs.  Weight 
continued,  with  rising  excitement.  "  Direxia 
Hawkes  has  hid  him  ;  he's  an  accomplish  of 
hers.  You've  always  trusted  that  woman, 
Mis'  Tree,  but  I  tell  you  I've  had  my  eye  on 
her  these  ten  years,  and  now  I've  found  her 
out.     She's  hid  him  away  somewheres,  I  tell 


OLD  FRIENDS  73 

you.  There's  cupboards  and  clusets  enough  in 
this  house  to  hide  a  whole  gang  of  cutthroats 
in  —  and  when  you're  abed  and  asleep  they'll 
have  your  life,  them  two,  and  run  off  with 
your  worldly  goods  that  you've  thought  so 
much  of.  Would  have,  that  is,  if  I  hadn't 
have  had  a  Special  Ordering  to  look  out  of 
winder.  Oh,  how  thankful  should  I  be  that 
I  kep'  the  use  of  my  limbs,  though  I  was 
scairt  'most  to  death,  and  am  now." 

"Yes,  they  might  be  useful  to  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Tree,  "to  get  home  with,  for  instance. 
There,  that  will  do,  Malvina  Weight.  There 
is  no  tramp  here.  Your  eyesight  is  failing ; 
there  were  always  weak  eyes  in  your  family. 
There's  no  tramp  here,  and  there  has  been 
none." 

"Mis'  Tree!  I  tell  you  I  see  him  with 
these  —  " 

"  Bah  !  don't  talk  to  me  ! "  Mrs.  Tree  blazed 
into    sudden   wrath.      But   next   instant   she 


74  MBS.    TBEE 

straightened  herself  over  her  cane,  and  spoke 
quietly. 

"  Good  night,  Malvina.  You  mean  well,  and 
I  bear  no  malice.  I'm  obliged  to  you  for 
your  good  intentions.  What  you  took  for  a 
tramp  was  a  gentleman  who  has  come  to  stay 
overnight  with  me.  He's  up-stairs  now.  Did 
you  lock  your  door  when  you  came  out  ? 
There  are  tramps  about,  so  I've  heard,  and  if 
Ephraim  is  away  —  well,  good  night,  if  you 
must  hurry.  Direxia,  lock  the  door  and  put 
the  chain  up ;  and  if  anybody  else  calls  to-night, 
set  the  bird  on  'em." 


CHAPTEE   V. 

"BUT   WHEN   HE  WAS   YET   A   GREAT  WAY  OFF" 

"  And  so  when  she  ran  away  and  left  you, 
you  took  to  drink,  Willy.  That  wasn't  very 
sensible,  was  it  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  care,"  said  William  Jaquith.  "  It 
helped  nie  to  forget  for  a  bit  at  a  time.  I 
thought  I  could  give  it  up  any  day,  but  I 
didn't.  Then  —  I  lost  my  place,  of  course, 
and  started  to  come  East,  and  had  my  pocket 
picked  in  Denver,  every  cent  I  had.  I  tried 
for  work  there,  but  between  sickness  and 
drink  I  wasn't  good  for  much.  I  started 
tramping.  I  thought  I  would  tramp  —  it 
was  last  spring,  and  warm  weather  coming 
on  —  till  I'd  got  my  health  back,  and  then 
I'd   steady    down    and    get    some    work,    and 


76  MRS.    TBEE 

come  back  to  Mother  when  I  was  fit  to  loov 
her  in  the  face.  Then  —  in  some  place,  I  for- 
get what,  though  I  know  the  pattern  of  the 
wall-paper  by  the  table  where  I  was  sitting 
—  I  came  upon  a  King's  County  paper  with 
Mother's  death  in  it." 

"What!"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  straightening  her- 
self over  her  stick. 

"  Oh,  it  didn't  make  so  much  difference," 
Jaquith  went  on,  dreamily.  "I  wasn't  fit  to 
see  her,  I  knew  that  well  enough;  only  —  it 
was  a  green  paper,  with  splotchy  yellow  flow- 
ers on  it.  Fifteen  flowers  to  a  row ;  I  counted 
them  over  seven  times  before  I  could  be  sure. 
Well,  I  was  sick  again  after  that,  I  don't  know 
how  long;  some  kind  of  fever.  When  I  got 
up  again  something  was  gone  out  of  me,  some- 
thing that  had  kept  me  honest  till  then.  I 
made  up  my  mind  that  I  would  get  money 
somehow,  I  didn't  much  care  how.  I  thought 
of  you,  and  the  gold  counters  you  used  to  let 


"F-ET  A   GREAT   WAY  OFF"  11 

Arthur  and  me  play  with,  so  that  we  might 
learn  not  to  think  too  much  of  money.  You 
remember  ?  I  thought  I  might  get  some  of 
those,  and  you  might  not  miss  them.  You 
didn't  need  them,  anyhow,  I  thought.  Yes,  I 
knew  you  would  give  them  to  me  if  I  asked 
for  them,  but  I  wasn't  going  to  ask.  I  came 
here  to-night  to  see  if  there  was  any  man  or 
dog  about  the  house.  If  not,  I  meant  to  slip 
in  by  and  by  at  the  pantry  window;  I  re- 
membered the  trick  of  the  spring.  I  forgot 
Jocko.  There !  now  you  know  all.  You 
ought  to  give  me  up,  Mrs.  Tree,  but  you 
won't  do  that." 

"  No,  I  won't  do  that ! "  said  the  old  woman. 

She  looked  at  him  thoughtfully.  His  eyes 
were  wandering  about  the  room,  a  painful 
pleasure  growing  in  them  as  they  rested  on 
one  object  after  another.  Beautiful  eyes  they 
were,  in  shape  and  color  —  if  the  light  were 
not  gone  out  of  them. 


78  MRS.    TREE 

"  The  bead  puppy  ! "  he  said,  presently.  "  I 
can  remember  when  we  wondered  if  it  could 
bark.  We  must  have  been  pretty  small  then. 
When  did  Arthur  die,  Mrs.  Tree  ?  I  hadn't 
heard  —  I  supposed  he  was  still  in  Europe." 

"  Two  years  ago." 

"Was  it  — "  something  seemed  to  choke 
the  man. 

"  Fretting  for  her  ? "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  sharply. 
"  No,  it  wasn't.  He  found  her  out  before  you 
did,  Willy.  He  knew  you'd  find  out,  too ;  he 
knew  who  was  to  blame,  and  that  she  turned 
your  head  and  set  you  crazy.  '  Be  good  to 
old  Will  if  you  ever  have  a  chance ! '  that  was 
one  of  the  last  things  he  said.  He  had 
grippe,  and  pneumonia  after  it,  only  a  week 
in  all." 

Jaquith  turned  his  head  away.  For  a  time 
neither  spoke.  The  fire  purred  and  crackled 
comfortably  in  the  wide  fireplace.  The  heat 
brought  out  the  scent  of  the  various  woods, 


"YET  A   GREAT   WAY  OFF"  79 

and  the  air  was  alive  with  warm  perfume. 
The  dim,  antique  richness  of  the  little  parlor 
seemed  to  come  to  a  point  in  the  small,  alert 
figure,  upright  in  the  ebony  chair.  The  fire- 
light played  on  her  gleaming  satin  and  misty 
laces,  and  lighted  the  fine  lines  of  her  wrinkled 
face.  Very  soft  the  lines  seemed  now,  but  it 
might  be  the  light. 

"Arthur  Blyth  taken  and  Will  Jaquith 
left ! "  said  the  young  man,  softly.  "  I  wonder 
if  God  always  knows  what  he  is  about,  Mrs. 
Tree.  Are  there  still  candied  cherries  in  the 
sandalwood  cupboard  ?  I  know  the  orange 
cordial  is  there  in  the  gold-glass  decanter 
with  the  little  fat  gold  tumblers." 

"Yes,  the  cordial  is  there,"  said  Mrs.  Tree. 
"  It's  a  pity  I  can't  give  you  a  glass,  Willy ; 
you'll  need  it  directly,  but  you  can't  have  it. 
Feel  better,  hey?" 

William  Jaquith  raised  his  head,  and  met 
the  keen  kindness  of   her  eyes;   for  the  first 


80  MBS.    TREE 

time  a  smile  broke  over  his  face,  a  smile  of 
singular  sweetness. 

"  Why,  yes,  Mrs.  Tree  !  "  he  said.  "  I  feel 
better  than  I  have  since  —  I  don't  know  when. 
I  feel  —  almost  —  like  a  man  again.  It's 
better  than  the  cordial  just  to  look  at  you, 
and  smell  the  wood,  and  feel  the  fire.  What 
a  pity  one  cannot  die  when  one  wants  to.  This 
would  be  ceasing  on  the  midnight  without 
pain,  wouldn't  it  ?  " 

"  Why  don't  you  give  up  drink  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Tree,  abruptly. 

"  Where's  the  use  ? "  said  Jaquith.  "  I  would 
if  there  were  any  use,  but  Mother's  dead." 

"  Cat'sfoot-fiddlestick-folderol-fudge  ! "  blazed 
the  old  woman.  "  She's  no  more  dead  than  I 
am.  Don't  talk  to  me !  hold  on  to  yourself 
now,  Willy  Jaquith,  and  don't  make  a  scene ; 
it  is  a  thing  I  cannot  abide.  It  was  Maria 
Jaquith  that  died,  over  at  East  Corners.  Small 
loss  she  was,  too.     None  of  that  family  was 


"YET  A   GREAT  WAY  OFF"  81 

ever  worth  their  salt.  The  fool  who  writes 
for  the  papers  put  her  in  '  Mary/  and  gave 
out  that  she  died  here  in  Elmerton  just  be- 
cause they  brought  her  here  to  bury.  They've 
always  buried  here  in  the  family  lot,  as  if  they 
were  of  some  account.  I  was  afraid  you  might 
hear  of  it,  Willy,  and  wrote  to  the  last  place  I 
heard  of  you  in,  but  of  course  it  was  no  use. 
Mary  Jaquith  is  alive,  I  tell  you.  Now  where 
are  you  going  ?  " 

Jaquith  had  started  to  his  feet,  dead  white, 
his  eyes  shining  like  candles. 

«  To  Mother  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  would !  wake  her  up  out  of  a  sound 
sleep  at  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  scare  her  into 
convulsions.  Sit  down,  Willy  Jaquith ;  do 
as  I  tell  you  !  There !  feel  pretty  well,  hey  ? 
Your  mother  is  blind." 

"  Oh,  Mother !  Mother  !  and  I  have  left  her 
alone  all  this  time." 

"  Exactly !  now  don't  go  into  a  caniption, 


82  MBS.    TBEE 

for  it  won't  do  any  good.  You  must  go  to 
bed  now,  and,  what's  more,  go  to  sleep;  and 
we'll  go  down  together  in  the  morning.  Here's 
Direxia  now  with  the  gruel.  There !  hush ! 
don't  say  a  word  ! " 

The  old  serving-woman  entered  bearing  a 
silver  tray,  on  which  was  a  covered  bowl  of 
India  china,  a  small  silver  saucepan,  and  some- 
thing covered  with  a  napkin.  William  Jaquith 
went  to  a  certain  corner  and  brought  out  a  tea- 
poy of  violet  wood,  which  he  set  down  at  the 
old  lady's  elbow. 

"  There  J  "  said  Direxia  Hawkes.  "  Did  you 
ever  ? " 

She  was  shaking  all  over,  but  she  set  the 
tray  down  carefully.  Jaquith  took  the  sauce- 
pan from  her  hand  and  set  it  on  the  hob. 
Then  he  lifted  the  napkin.  Under  it  were 
two  plates,  one  of  biscuits,  the  other  of  small 
cakes  shaped  like  a  letter  S. 

"  Snaky  cakies  ! "  said  Will  Jaquith.     "  Oh, 


"  YET  A   GREAT   WAY  OFF"  83 

Direxia!  give  ine  a  cake  and  I'll  give  you  a 
kiss  !     Is  that  right,  you  dear  old  thing  ? " 

He  stooped  to  kiss  the  withered  brown 
cheek;  the  old  woman  caught  up  her  apron 
to  her  face. 

"  It's  him !  it's  him !  it's  one  of  my  little 
boys,  but  where's  the  other  ?  Oh,  Mis'  Tree,  I 
can't  stand  it !  I  can't  stand  it ! " 

Mrs.  Tree  watched  her,  dry-eyed. 

"  Cry  away,  so  long  as  you  don't  cry  into 
the  gruel,"  she  said,  kindly.  "  You  are  an  old 
goose,  Direxia  Hawkes.  I  haven't  been  able 
to  cry  for  ten  years,  Willy.  Here !  take  the 
'postle  spoon  and  stir  it.  Has  she  brought  a 
cup  for  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  I  had ! "  said  Direxia, 
drying  her  eyes.  "  I  ain't  quite  lost  my  wits, 
Mis'  Tree." 

"  You  never  had  enough  to  lose  ! "  retorted 
her  mistress.  "  Hark  !  there's  Jocko  wanting 
his  gruel.     Bring  him  in ;  and  mind  you  take 


84  MBS.    TREE 

a  sup  yourself  before  you  go  to  bed,  Direxia ! 
You're  all  shaken  up." 

"Gadzooks!"  said  the  parrot.  "The  cup 
that  cheers !  Go  to  bed,  Direxia !  Direxia 
Hawkes,  wife  of  Guy  Fawkes ! " 

"  Now  look  at  that ! "  said  Direxia.  "  Ain't 
you  ashamed,  Willy  Jaquith  ?  He  ain't  said 
that  since  you  went  away." 

The  next  morning  was  bright  and  clear. 
Mrs.  Malvina  Weight,  sweeping  her  front 
chamber,  with  an  anxious  eye  on  the  house 
opposite,  saw  the  door  open  and  Mrs.  Tree 
come  out,  followed  by  a  tall  young  man.  The 
old  lady  wore  the  huge  black  velvet  bonnet, 
surmounted  by  a  bird  of  paradise,  which  she 
had  brought  from  Paris  forty  years  before,  and 
an  India  shawl  which  had  pointed  a  moral  to 
the  pious  of  Elmerton  for  more  than  that 
length  of  time.  "  Adorning  her  perishing  back 
with  what  would  put  food  in  the  mouth  of 


"  YET  A   GBEAT   WAY  OFF"  85 

twenty  Christian  heathens   for  a  year ! "  was 
the  way  Mrs.  Weight  herself  expressed  it. 

This  morning,  however,  Mrs.  Weight  had 
no  eyes  for  her  aged  neighbor.  Every  faculty 
she  possessed  was  bent  on  proving  the  identity 
of  the  stranger.  He  kept  his  face  turned 
from  her  in  a  way  that  was  most  exasper- 
ating. Could  it  be  the  man  she  saw  last 
night  ?  If  her  eyes  were  going  as  bad  as 
that,  she  must  see  the  optician  next  time 
he  came  through  the  village,  and  be  fitted  a 
new  pair  of  glasses;  it  was  scandalous,  after 
paying  him  the  price  she  did  no  more  than 
five  years  ago,  and  him  saying  they'd  last 
her  lifetime.  Why,  this  was  a  gentleman, 
sure  enough.  It  must  be  the  same,  and 
them  shadows,  looking  like  rags,  deceived  her. 
Well,  anybody  living,  except  Mis'  Tree,  would 
have  said  his  name,  if  it  wasn't  but  just  for 
neighborliness.  Who  could  it  be  ?  Not  that 
Doctor    Strong   back   again,   just    when    they 


86  MRS.    TREE 

were  well  rid  of  him  ?  No,  this  man  was 
taller,  and  stoop-shouldered.  Seemed  like  she 
had  seen  that  back  before. 

She  gazed  with  passionate  yearning  till  the 
pair  passed  out  of  sight,  the  ancient  woman 
leaning  on  the  young  man's  arm,  yet  stepping 
briskly  along,  her  ebony  staff  tapping  the  side- 
walk smartly. 

Mrs.  Weight  called  over  the  stairs. 

"  Isick,  be  you  there  ? " 

"  Yep ! " 

«  Why  ain't  you  to  school,  I'd  like  to  know  ? 
Since  you  be  here,  jest  run  round  through 
Candy's  yard  and  come  back  along  the  street, 
that's  a  good  boy,  and  see  who  that  is  Mis' 
Tree's  got  with  her." 

"  I  can't !  I  got  the  teethache  ! "  whined 
Isaac. 

"It  won't  hurt  your  teethache  any.  Eun 
now,  and  I'll  make  you  a  saucer-pie  next 
time  I'm  baking." 


"YET  A  GREAT   WAY  OFF"  87 

"  You  allers  say  that,  and  then  you  never  ! " 
grumbled  Isaac,  dragging  reluctant  feet  toward 
the  door. 

"  Isick  Weight,  don't  you  speak  to  me  like 
that!  I'll  tell  your  pa,  if  you  don't  do  as  I 
tell  you." 

"  Well,  ain't  I  goin',  quick  as  I  can  ?  I 
won't  go  through  Candy's  yard,  though;  that 
mean  Tom  Candy's  waitin'  for  me  now  with  a 
big  rock,  'cause  I  got  him  sent  home  for  actin' 
in  school.  I'll  go  and  ask  the  man  who  he  is. 
S'pose  he  knows." 

"  You  won't  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  There ! 
no  matter  —  it's  too  late  now.  You're  a  real 
aggravating  naughty-actin'  boy,  Isick  Weight, 
and  I  believe  you've  been  sent  home  your  own 
self  for  cuttin'  up  —  not  that  I  doubt  Tommy 
Candy  was,  too.  I  shall  ask  your  father  to 
whip  you  good  when  he  gits  home." 

"  Well,  Mary  Jaquith,  here  you  sit." 


88  MBS.    TBEE 

"  Mrs.  Tree !  Is  this  you  ?  My  dear  soul, 
what  brings  you  out  so  early  in  the  morning  ? 
Come  in  !  come  in  !     Who  is  with  you  ? " 

"I  didn't  say  any  one  was  with  me!" 
snapped  Mrs.  Tree.  "  Don't  you  go  to  setting 
up  double-action  ears  like  mine,  Mary,  because 
you  are  not  old  enough.  How  are  you  ?  obsti- 
nate as  ever  ? " 

The  blind  woman  smiled.  In  her  plain 
print  dress,  she  had  the  air  of  a  masquerading 
duchess,  and  her  blue  eyes  were  as  clear  and 
beautiful  as  those  which  were  watching  her 
from  the  door. 

"  Take  this  chair,"  she  said,  pushing  forward 
a  straight-backed  armchair.  "  It's  the  one  you 
always  like.  How  am  I  obstinate,  dear  Mrs. 
Tree?" 

"If  I've  asked  you  once  to  come  and  live 
with  me,  I've  asked  you  fifty  times,"  grumbled 
the  old  lady,  sitting  down  with  a  good  deal  of 
flutter  and  rustle.     "There  I  must  stay,  left 


"YET  A  GREAT   WAT  OFF"  89 

alone  at  my  age,  with  nobody  but  that  old 
goose  of  a  Direxia  Hawkes  to  look  after  me. 
And  all  because  you  like  to  be  independent. 
Set  you  up !  Well,  I  sha'n't  ask  you  again, 
and  so  I've  come  to  tell  you,  Mary  Jaquith." 

"Dear  old  friend,  you  forgive  me,  I  know. 
You  never  can  have  thought  for  a  moment, 
seriously,  that  I  could  be  a  burden  on  your 
kind  hands.  There  surely  is  some  one  with 
you,  Mrs.  Tree !  Is  it  Direxia  ?  Please  be 
seated,  whoever  it  is." 

She  turned  her  beautiful  face  and  clear, 
quiet  eyes  toward  the  door.  There  was  a 
slight  sound,  as  of  a  sob  checked  in  the  out- 
break. Mrs.  Tree  shook  her  head,  fiercely. 
The  blind  woman  rose  from  her  seat,  very  pale. 

"  Who  is  it  ? "  she  said.  "  Be  kind,  please, 
and  tell  me." 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  you,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  "  if 
you  will  have  patience  for  two  minutes,  and 
not  drive  every  idea  out  of  my  head  with  your 


90  MBS.    TREE 

questions.  Mary,  I  —  I  had  a  visitor  last 
night.  Some  one  came  to  see  me  —  an  old 
acquaintance  —  who  had  —  who  had  heard  of 
Willy  lately.  Willy  is  —  doing  well,  my  dear. 
Now,  Mary  Jaquith,  if  you  don't  sit  down,  I 
won't  say  another  word.  Of  all  the  unreason- 
able women  I  ever  saw  in  my  life  —  " 

Mrs.  Tree  stopped,  and  rose  abruptly  from 
her  seat.  The  blind  woman  was  holding  out 
her  arms  with  a  heavenly  gesture  of  appeal,  of 
welcome,  of  love  unutterable  :  her  face  was  the 
face  of  an  angel.  Another  moment,  and  her 
son's  arms  were  round  her,  and  her  head  on 
his  bosom,  and  he  was  crying  over  and  over 
again,  "  Mother !  mother  !  mother  ! "  as  if  he 
could  not  have  enough  of  the  word. 

"  Arthur  was  a  nice  boy,  too ! "  said  Mrs. 
Tree,  as  she  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Five  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Weight,  hurrying 
up  the  plank  walk  which  led  to  the  Widow 


"YET  A  GREAT   WAT  OFF"  91 

Jaquith's  door,  was  confronted  by  the  figure 
of  her  opposite  neighbor,  sitting  on  the  front 
doorstep,  leaning  her  chin  on  her  stick,  and 
looking,  as  Mrs.  Weight  told  the  deacon  after- 
ward, like  Satan's  grandmother. 

"  Want  to  see  Mary  Jaquith  ? "  asked  Mrs. 
Tree.  "Well,  she's  engaged,  and  you  can't. 
Here !  give  me  your  arm,  Viny,  and  take  me 
over  to  the  girls'.  I  want  to  see  how  Phoebe 
is  this  morning.  She  was  none  too  spry 
yesterday." 


CHAPTEK  VI. 

THE   NEW   POSTMASTER 

Politics  had  little  hold  in  Elmerton.  When 
any  question  of  public  interest  was  to  be 
settled,  the  elders  of  the  village  met  and  set- 
tled it;  if  they  disagreed  among  themselves, 
they  went  to  Mrs.  Tree,  and  she  told  them 
what  to  do.  People  sometimes  wondered 
what  would  happen  when  Mrs.  Tree  died,  but 
there  seemed   no   immediate  danger  of   this. 

"Truth  and  Trees  live  forever!"  was  the 
saying  in  the  village. 

When  Israel  Nudd,  the  postmaster,  died, 
Elmerton  found  little  difficulty  in  recommend- 
ing his  successor.  The  day  after  his  funeral, 
the  elders  assembled  at  the  usual  place  of 
meeting,  the  post-office  piazza.     This    was   a 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  93 

narrow  platform  running  along  one  side  of  the 
post-office  building,  and  commanding  a  view  of 
the  sea.  A  row  of  chairs  stood  along  the  wall 
on  their  hind  legs.  They  might  be  supposed  to 
have  lost  the  use  of  their  fore  legs,  simply  be- 
cause they  never  were  used.  In  these  chairs 
the  elders  sat,  and  surveyed  the  prospect. 

"  Tide's  makin'/'  said  John  Peavey. 

No  one  seemed  inclined  to  contradict  this 
statement. 

"Water  looks  rily,"  John  Peavey  continued. 
"  Goin'  to  be  a  change  o'  weather." 

"I  never  see  no  sense  in  that,"  remarked 
Seth  Weaver.  "  Why  should  a  change  of 
weather  make  the  water  rily  beforehand  ?  Be- 
sides, it  ain't." 

"My  Uncle  Ammi  lived  to  a  hundred  and 
two,"  said  John  Peavey,  slowly,  "  and  he  never 
doubted  it.  You're  allers  contrary,  Seth.  If 
I  said  I  had  a  nose  on  my  face,  you'd  say  it 
warn't  so." 


94  MBS.   TREE 

"Wal,  some  might  call  it  one,"  rejoined 
Seth,  with  a  cautious  glance.  "  I  ain't  fond  of 
committin'  myself." 

"  Meetin'  come  to  order ! "  said  Salem  Kock, 
interrupting  this  preliminary  badinage. 

"  Brether —  I  —  I  would  say,  gentlemen,  we 
have  met  to  recommend  a  postmaster  for  this 
village,  in  the  room  of  Israel  Nudd,  diseased. 
What  is  your  pleasure  in  this  matter?  I 
s'pose  Homer'd  ought  to  have  it,  hadn't 
he?" 

The  conclave  meditated.  No  one  had  the 
smallest  doubt  that  Homer  ought  to  have  it, 
but  it  was  not  well  to  decide  matters  too 
hastily. 

"Homer's  none  too  speedy,"  said  Abram 
Cutter.  "He  gets  to  moonin'  over  the  mail 
sometimes,  and  it  seems  as  if  you'd  git  King- 
dom Come  before  you  got  the  paper.  But  I 
never  see  no  harm  in  Home." 

"  Not  a  mite,"  was  the  general  verdict. 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  95 

"  Homer's  as  good  as  gingerbread,"  said 
Saleni  Kock,  heartily.  "  He  knows  the  busi- 
ness, ben  in  it  sence  he  was  a  boy,  and  there's 
no  one  else  doos.  My  'pinion,  he'd  oughter 
have  the  job." 

He  spoke  emphatically,  and  all  the  others 
glanced  at  him  with  approval;  but  there  was 
no  hurry.  The  mail  would  not  be  in  for  half 
an  hour  yet. 

"There's  the  Fidely?  said  Seth  Weaver. 
"Goin'  up  river  for  logs,  I  expect." 

A  dingy  tug  came  puffing  by.  As  she 
passed,  a  sooty  figure  waved  a  salutation,  and 
the  whistle  screeched  thrice.  Seth  Weaver 
swung  his  hat  in  acknowledgment. 

"  Joe  Derrick,"  he  said.  "  Him  and  me  run 
her  a  spell  together  last  year." 

"  How    did     she    run  ? "    inquired    John 
Peavey. 

"  Like  a  wu'm  with  the  rheumatiz,"  was  the 
reply.      "The  logs  in  the  river  used  to  roll 


96  MBS.   TBEE 

over  and  groan,  to  see  lumber  put  together 
in  such  shape.  She  ain't  safe,  neither.  I  told 
Joe  so  when  I  got  out.  I  says,  '  It's  time  she 
was  to  her  long  home,'  I  says,  'but  I  don't 
feel  no  call  to  be  one  of  the  bearers/  I 
says.  Joe's  reckless.  I  expect  he'll  keep 
right  on  till  she  founders  under  him,  and 
then  walk  ashore  on  his  feet.  They  are 
bigger  than  some  rafts  I've  seen,  I  tell 
him." 

"  Speaking  of  bearers,"  said  Abram  Cutter, 
"  hadn't  we  ought  to  pass  a  vote  of  thanks  to 
Isr'el,  or  something  ?  " 

"  What  for  ?  turnin'  up  his  toes  ? "  inquired 
the  irrepressible  Seth.  "  I  dono  as  he  did  it 
to  obleege  us,  did  he  ? " 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Abram,  patiently. 
"  But  he  was  postmaster  here  twenty-five  years, 
and  seems's  though  we'd  ought  to  take  some 
notice  of  it." 

"That's  so!"    said    Salem   Eock.     "You're 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  97 

right,  Abram.  What  we  want  is  some  resolu- 
tions of  sympathy  for  the  widder.  That's 
what's  usual  in  such  cases." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Seth  Weaver. 

The  others  looked  thoughtful. 

"How  would  you  propose  to  word  them 
resolutions,  Brother  Bock  ? "  asked  Enoch 
Peterson,  cautiously.  "  I  understand  Mis' 
Nudd  accepts  her  lot.  Isr'el  warn't  an  easy 
man  to  live  with,  I'm  told  by  them  as  was 
neighbor  to  him." 

He  glanced  at  Seth  Weaver,  who  cleared 
his  throat  and  gazed  seaward.  The  others 
waited.     Presently  — 

"  If  I  was  drawin'  up  them  resolutions," 
Weaver  said,  slowly,  "  'pears  to  me  I  should 
say  something  like  this: 

"  <  Kesolved,  that  Isr'el  Nudd  was  a  good 
postmaster,  and  done  his  work  faithful ;  and 
resolved,  that  we  tender  his  widder  all  the 
respeckful   sympathy    she    requires.'     Aad    a 


98  MBS.    TREE 

peanut-shell  to  put  it  in  ! "  he  added,  in  a 
lower   tone. 

Salem  Kock  pulled  out  a  massive  silver 
watch  and  looked  at  it. 

"  I  got  to  go  ! "  he  said.  "  Let's  boil  this 
down !  All  present  who  want  Homer  Hollo- 
peter  for  postmaster,  say  so  ;  contrary-minded  ? 
It's  a  vote !  We'll  send  the  petition  to  Wash- 
in'ton.  Next  question  is,  who'll  he  have  for 
an  assistant  ? " 

There  was  a  movement  of  chairs,  as  with 
fresh  interest  in  the  new  topic. 

"  I  was  intendin'  to  speak  on  that  p'int ! " 
piped  up  a  little  man  at  the  end  of  the  row, 
who  had  not  spoken  before. 

"  What  do  we  need  of  an  assistant  ?  Homer 
Hollopeter  could  do  the  work  with  one  hand, 
except  Christmas  and  New  Years.  There  ain't 
room  enough  in  there  to  set  a  hen,  anyway." 

"  Who  wants  to  set  hens  in  the  post-office  ? ' 
demanded    Seth   Weaver.      "  There's   cacklin 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  99 

enough  goes  on  there  without  that.  I  expect 
about  the  size  of  it  is,  you'd  like  more  room 
to  set  by  the  stove,  without  no  eggs  to 
set  on." 

"  I  was  only  thinkin'  of  savin'  the  gov'- 
ment ! "  said  the  little  man,  uneasily. 

"  I  reckon  gov'ment's  big  enough  to  take 
care  of  itself!"  said  Seth  Weaver. 

"  There's  allers  been  an  assistant,"  said  Salem 
Eock,  briefly.     "  Question  is,  who  to  have  ? " 

At  this  moment  a  window-blind  was  drawn 
up,  and  the  meek  head  of  Mr.  Homer  Hollo- 
peter  appeared  at  the  open  window. 

"  Good  afternoon,  gentlemen  ! "  he  said,  ner- 
vously. A  great  content  shone  in  his  mild 
brown  eyes,  —  indeed,  he  must  have  heard 
every  word  that  had  been  spoken,  —  but  he 
shuffled  his  feet  and  twitched  the  blind  un- 
easily after  he  had  spoken. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Mr.  Postmaster  ! "  said 
Salem  Eock,  heartily. 


100  MRS.    TREE 

"  Congratulations,  Home ! "  said  Seth  Weaver. 
The  others  nodded  and  grunted  approvingly. 

"  There's  nothing  official  yet,  you  under- 
stand," Salem  Eock  added,  kindly ;  "  but 
we've  passed  a  vote,  and  the  rest  is  only  a 
question  of  time." 

"  Only  a  question  of  time ! "  echoed  Abram 
Cutter  and  John  Peavey. 

Mr.  Homer  drew  himself  up  and  settled  his 
sky-blue  necktie. 

"  Gentlemen,"  he  said,  his  voice  faltering  a 
little  at  first,  but  gaining  strength  as  he  went 
on,  "  I  thank  you  for  the  honor  you  do  me.  I 
am  deeply  sensible  of  it,  and  of  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  position  I  am  called  upon  to  fill ; 
to  —  occupy ;  —  to  —  a  —  become  a  holder  of." 

"  Have  a  lozenger,  Home ! "  said  Seth 
Weaver,  encouragingly. 

"I  —  am  obliged  to  you,  Seth;  not  any!" 
said  Mr.  Homer,  slightly  flustered.  "I  was 
about  to  say  that  my  abilities,  such  as  they 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  101 

are,  shall  be  henceforth  devoted  to  the  service 
—  to  the  —  amelioration  ;  to  the  —  mental, 
moral,  and  physical  well-being  —  of  my  coun- 
try and  my  fellow  citizens.  Ahem !  I  sup- 
pose —  I  believe  it  is  the  custom  —  a  —  in 
short,  am  I  at  liberty  to  choose  an  assistant  ? " 

"We  were  just  talkin'  about  that,"  said 
Salem  Eock. 

"  Yes,  you  choose  your  own  assistant,  of 
course ;  but  —  well,  it's  usual  to  choose  some- 
one that's  agreeable  to  folks.  I  believe  the  vil- 
lage has  generally  had  some  say  in  the  matter ; 
not  officially,  you  understand,  just  kind  of 
complimentary.  We  nominate  you,  and  you 
kind  o'  consult  us  about  who  you'll  have  in  to 
help.  That  seems  about  square,  don't  it  ? 
Doctor  Stedman  recommended  you  to  Isr'el, 
I  remember." 

There  was  an  assenting  hum. 

Mr.  Homer  leaned  out  of  the  window,  all 
his  self-consciousness  gone. 


102  MBS.    TREE 

"  Mr.  Eock,"  he  said,  eagerly,  "  I  wish  most 
earnestly  —  I  am  greatly  desirous  of  having 
William  Jaquith  as  my  assistant.  I  —  he 
appears  to  me  a  most  suitable  person.  I  beg, 
gentlemen  —  I  hope,  boys,  that  you  will  agree 
with  me.  The  only  son  of  his  mother,  and 
she  is  a  widow." 

He  paused,  and  looked  anxiously  at  the 
elders. 

They  had  all  turned  toward  him  when  he 
appeared,  some  even  going  so  far  as  to  set 
their  chairs  on  four  legs,  and  hitching  them 
forward  so  that  they  might  command  a  view 
of  their  beneficiary. 

But  now,  with  one  accord,  they  turned  their 
faces  seaward,  and  became  to  all  appearance 
deeply  interested  in  a  passing  sail. 

"  The  only  son  of  his  mother,  and  she  is  a 
widow ! "  Mr.  Homer  repeated,  earnestly. 

Salem  Eock  crossed  and  recrossed  his  legs 
uneasily. 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  103 

"  That's  all  very  well,  Homer,"  he  said.  "  No 
man  thinks  more  of  Scripture  than  what  I  do, 
in  its  place ;  but  this  ain't  its  place.  This  ain't 
a  question  of  widders,  it's  a  question  of  the 
village.  Will  Jaquith  is  a  crooked  stick,  and 
you  know  it." 

"  He  has  been,  Brother  Eock,  he  has  been  ! " 
said  Mr.  Homer,  eagerly.  "I  grant  you  the 
past;  but  William  is  a  changed  man,  he  is, 
indeed.  He  has  suffered  much,  and  a  new 
spirit  is  born  in  him.  His  one  wish  is  to  be 
his  mother's  stay  and  support.  If  you  were  to 
see  him,  Brother  Eock,  and  talk  with  him,  I 
am  sure  you  would  feel  as  I  do.  Consider 
what  the  poet  says :  '  The  quality  of  mercy  is 
not  strained  ! ' " 

"  Mebbe  it  ain't,  so  fur ! "  said  Seth  Weaver ; 
"question  is,  how  strong  its  back  is.  If  I 
was  Mercy,  I  should  consider  Willy  Jaquith 
quite  a  lug.  Old  man  Butters  used  to 
say: 


104  MRS.    TREE 

"  '  Rollin'  stones  you  keep  your  eyes  on ! 

Some  on  'em's  pie,  and  some  on  'em's  pison/  " 

"  —  His  appointment  would  be  acceptable 
to  the  ladies  of  the  village,  I  have  reason  to 
think,"  persisted  Mr.  Homer.  "  My  venerable 
relative,  Mrs.  Tree,  expressed  herself  strongly 

—  "  (Mr.  Homer  blinked  two  or  three  times,  as 
if  recalling  something  of  an  agitating  nature) 

—  "I  may  say  very  strongly,  in  favor  of  it ;  in 
fact,  the  suggestion  came  in  the  first  place 
from  her,  though  I  had  also  had  it  in 
mind." 

There  was  a  change  in  the  atmosphere ;  a  cer- 
tain rigidity  of  neck  and  set  of  chin  gradually 
softened  and  disappeared.  The  elders  shuf- 
fled their  feet,  and  glanced  one  at  another. 

"  It  mightn't  do  no  harm  to  give  him  a  try," 
said  Abram  Cutter.  "  Homer's  ben  clerk  him- 
self fifteen  year,  and  he  knows  what's  wanted." 

"  That's  so,"  said  the  elders. 

"After  all,"  said  Salem  Eock,  "it's  Homer 


THE  NEW  POSTMASTER  105 

has  the  appointing  all  we  can  do  is  advise. 
If  you're  set  on  givin'  Will  Jaquith  a  chance, 
Homer,  and  if  Mis'  Tree  answers  for  him  — 
why,  I  dono  as  we'd  ought  to  oppose  it.  Only, 
you  keep  your  eye  on  him !  Meetin's  ad- 
journed." 

The  elders  strolled  away  by  ones  and  twos, 
each  with  his  word  of  congratulation  or  advice 
to  the  new  postmaster.  Seth  Weaver  alone 
lingered,  leaning  on  the  window-ledge.  His 
eyes  —  shrewd  blue  eyes,  with  a  twinkle  in 
them  —  roamed  over  the  rather  squalid  little 
room,  with  its  two  yellow , chairs,  its  painted 
pine  table  and  rusty  stove. 

"  Seems  curus  without  Isr'el,"  he  said,  medi- 
tatively. "  Seems  kind  o'  peaceful  and  empty, 
like  the  hole  in  your  jaw  where  you've  had  a 
tooth  hauled;  or  like  stoppin'  off  takin' 
physic." 

"Israel  was  an  excellent  postmaster,"  said 
Mr.  Homer,  gently.     "  I  thought  your  resolu- 


106  MBS.    TREE 

tions  were  severe,  Seth,  though  I  am  aware 
that  they  were  offered  partly  in  jest." 

"  You  never  lived  next  door  to  him ! "  said 
Seth. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN   MISS   PENNY'S    SHOP 

One  of  the  pleasantest  places  in  Elmerton 
was  Miss  Penny  Pardon's  shop.  Miss  Penny 
(short  for  Penelope)  and  Miss  Prudence  were 
sisters ;  and  as  there  was  not  enough  dress- 
making in  the  village  to  keep  them  both  busy 
at  all  seasons,  and  as  Miss  Penny  was  lame 
and  could  not  "go"  much,  as  we  say  in  the 
village,  she  kept  this  little  shop,  through  which 
one  passed  to  reach  the  back  parlor  where 
Miss  Prudence  cut  and  fitted  and  stitched.  It 
was  a  queer  little  shop.  There  were  a  few 
toys,  chiefly  dolls,  beautifully  dressed  by  Miss 
Prudence,  with  marbles  and  tops  in  their  sea- 
son for  the  boys;  there  was  a  little  fancy 
work,  made  by  various  invalid  neighbors,  which 

107 


108  MRS.    TREE 

Miss  Penny  undertook  to  sell  "  if  'twas  so  she 
could,"  without  profit  to  herself;  a  little  sta- 
tionery, and  a  few  small  wares,  thread  and 
needles,  hairpins  and  whalebone  —  and  there 
were  a  great  many  birds.  Elmerton  was  a 
great  place  for  cage-birds,  and  Miss  Penny 
was  "knowing"  about  them;  consequently, 
when  any  bird  was  ailing,  it  was  brought  to 
her  for  advice  and  treatment,  and  there  were 
seldom  less  than  half  a  dozen  cages  in  the 
sunny  window.  One  shelf  was  devoted  to 
stuffed  birds,  it  being  the  custom,  when  a 
favorite  died,  to  present  it  to  Miss  Penny  for 
her  collection;  and  thus  the  invalid  canaries 
and  mino  birds  were  constantly  taught  to 
know  their  end,  which  may  or  may  not  have 
tended  to  raise  their  spirits. 

One  morning  Miss  Penny  was  bustling  about 
her  shop,  feeding  the  birds  and  talking  to  Miss 
Prudence,  the  door  between  the  two  rooms 
being  open.     She  was  like  a  bird  herself,  Miss 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S   SHOP  109 

Penny,  with  her  quick  motions  and  bright 
eyes,  her  halting  walk  which  was  almost  a 
hop,  and  a  way  she  had  of  cocking  her  head 
on  one  side  as  she  talked. 

"  So  I  says,  '  Of  course  I'll  take  him,  Mis' 
Tree,  and  glad  to.  He'll  be  company  for  both 
of  us,'  I  says.  And  it's  true.  I'd  full  as  lieves 
hear  that  bird  talk  as  many  folks  I  know,  and 
liever.  I  told  her  I  guessed  about  a  week 
would  set  him  up  good,  taking  the  Bird  Manna 
reg'lar,  and  the  Bitters  once  in  a  while.  A  lit- 
tle touch  of  asthmy  is  what  he's  got ;  it  hasn't 
taken  him  down  any,  as  I  can  see ;  he's  as  full 
of  the  old  Sancho  as  ever.  Willy  Jaquith 
brought  him  down  this  morning,  while  you  was 
to  market.  How  that  boy  has  improved  !  Why, 
he's  an  elegant-appearing  young  man  now,  and 
has  such  a  pretty  way  with  him  —  well,  he 
always  had  that  —  but  now  he's  kind  of  sad 
and  gentle.  I  shouldn't  suppose  he  had  any 
too  long  to  live,  the  way  he  looks  now.     Well, 


110  MRS.    THEE 

hasn't  Mary  Jaquith  had  a  sight  of  trouble, 
for  one  so  good  ?  Dear  me,  Prudence,  the 
day  she  married  George  Jaquith,  she  seemed 
to  have  the  world  at  her  feet,  didn't  she  ? " 

"  Eheu  fugaces"  said  a  harsh  voice  from  a 
corner. 

"  There,  hear  him !  "  said  Miss  Penny.  "  I 
do  admire  to  hear  him  speak  French.  Yes, 
Jocko,  he  was  a  clever  boy,  so  he  was. 
Pretty  soon  Penny'll  get  round  to  him,  and 
give  him  a  good  washing,  a  Beauty  Bird,  and 
feed  him  something  real  good." 

"  '  Eheu  fugaces,  Postume,  Postume, 
Ldbuntur  anni ; ' 

tell  that  to  your  granny  ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree's 
parrot,  turning  a  bright  yellow  eye  on  her 
knowingly. 

"  Bless  your  heart,  she  wouldn't  understand 
if  I  did.  She  never  had  your  advantages, 
dear,"   said  Miss    Penny,  admiringly.     "  Here, 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  111 

now  you  have  had  a  nice  nap,  and  I'll  move 
you  out  into  the  sun,  and  give  you  a  drop  of 
Bird  Bitters.  Take  it  now,  a  Beauty  Boy.  Pru- 
dence, I  wish't  you  could  see  him ;  he's  taking 
it  just  as  clever !  I  never  did  see  the  beat  of 
this  bird  for  knowingness." 

"  Malviny  Weight  was  askin'  me  about  them 
Bitters,"  said  Miss  Prudence's  voice  from  the 
inner  room.  "  She  wanted  to  know  if  there 
was  alcohol  in  'em,  and  if  you  thought  it  was 
right  to  tempt  dumb  critters." 

"  She  didn't !  Well,  if  she  ain't  a  case ! 
What  did  you  say  to  her,  Prudence  ?  Hush  ! 
hush  to  goodness !  Here  she  is  this  minute. 
Good  morning,  Mis'  Weight !  You're  quite 
a  stranger.  Eeal  seasonable,  ain't  it,  this 
mornin'  ? " 

"  'Tis  so ! "  responded  the  newcomer,  who 
entered,  breathing  heavily.  "  I  feel  the  morn- 
ing air,  though,  in  my  bronical  tubes.  I 
hadn't  ought  to  go   out   before  noon,  but  I 


112  MRS.    TREE 

wanted  to  speak  to  Prudence  about  turnin'  my 
brown  skirt.     Is  she  in  ? " 

"Yes'm,  she's  in.  You  can  pass  right 
through.     The  door's  open." 

"  Crickey  ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree's  parrot,  "  What 
a  figurehead ! " 

"Who's  that?"  demanded  Mrs.  Weight, 
angrily. 

Miss  Penny  turned  her  back  hastily,  and 
began  arranging  toys  on  a  shelf. 

"Why,  that's  Mis'  Tree's  parrot,  Mis' 
Weight,"  she  said.  "  That's  Jocko.  You 
must  know  him  as  well  as  I  do,  and  better, 
livin'  opposite  neighbor  to  her." 

"  I  should  think  I  did  know  him,  for  a  limb 
of  Satan ! "  said  the  visitor.  "  But  I  never 
looked  for  him  here.  Is  he  sick  ?  I  wish  to 
gracious  he'd  die.  It's  my  belief  he's  pos- 
sessed, like  some  others  I  know  of.  I'm  not 
one  to  spread,  or  I  could  tell  you  stories  about 
that  bird  —  " 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  113 

She  nodded  mysteriously,  and  glanced  at 
the  parrot,  who  had  turned  upside  down  on 
his  perch,  and  was  surveying  her  with  a  mal- 
evolent stare. 

"Why,  Mis'  Weight,  I  was  just  sayin' 
how  cute  he  was.  He'll  talk  just  as  pretty 
sometimes  —  won't  you,  Jocko  ?  Say  some- 
thing for  Mis'  Weight,  won't  you,  Beauty 
Boy?" 

"  Helen  was  a  beauty  ! "  crooned  the  parrot, 
his  head  on  one  side,  his  eyes  still  fixed  on 
Mrs.  Weight. 

"  Was  she  ? "  said  Miss  Penny,  encourag- 
ingly. "  I  want  to  know  !  Now,  who  do  you 
s'pose  he  means  ?  There's  nobody  name  of 
Helen  here  now,  except  Doctor  Pottle's  little 
girl,  and  she  squints." 

"  Helen  was  a  beauty, 
Xantippe  was  a  shrew  ; 
Medusa  was  a  Gorgon, 
And  so  —  are  —  you  ! 


114  MBS.    TBEE 

Ha !  ha !  ha !  crickey !  she  carries  Weight, 
she  rides  a  race,  'tis  for  a  thousand  pound. 
Screeeeeee ! " 

Swinging  himself  upright,  the  parrot  flapped 
his  wings,  and  uttered  a  blood-curdling  shriek. 
Mrs.  Weight  gave  a  single  squawk,  and  fled 
into  the  inner  room,  slamming  the  door  vio- 
lently after  her. 

"How  you  can  harbor  Satan,  Prudence 
Pardon,  is  more  than  I  can  understand,"  she 
panted,  purple  with  rage.  "  If  there  was  a  man 
in  this  village,  he'd  wring  that  bird's  neck." 

Miss  Prudence  was  removing  pins  from  her 
mouth,  preparatory  to  a  reply,  when  Miss 
Penny  appeared,  very  pink,  it  might  be  with 
indignation  at  the  parrot's  misconduct. 

"  There,  Mis'  Weight !  "  she  said,  soothingly, 
"I'm  real  sorry.  You  mustn't  mind  what  a 
bird  says.  It's  only  what  those  wild  boys 
taught  him,  Arthur  Blyth  and  Willy  Jaquith, 
and  I'm  sure  neither  one  of  'em  would  do  it 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  115 

to-day,  let  alone  Arthur's  being  dead.  Why, 
he  says  it  off  same  as  he  would  a  psalm,  if 
they'd  taught  him  that,  as  of  course  it's  a  pity 
they  didn't.  You  won't  mind  now,  will  you, 
Mis' Weight?" 

Mrs.  Weight,  very  majestic,  deposited  her 
bundle  on  the  table,  and  sat  down. 

"  I  say  nothing  of  the  dead,"  she  pro- 
claimed, after  a  pause,  "  and  but  little  of  the 
livin' ;  but  I  should  be  lawth  to  have  the  load 
on  my  shoulders  that  Mis'  Tree  has.  The  Day 
of  Judgment  will  attend  to  Arthur  Blyth,  but 
she  is  responsible  for  Will  Jaquith's  comm' 
back  to  this  village,  and  how  she  can  sleep 
nights  is  a  mystery  to  me.  I  thank  Gracious 
I  see  through  him  at  once.  Some  may  be 
deceived,  but  I'm  not  one  of  'em." 

"  Now,  Mis'  Weight,  I  wouldn't  talk  so,  if  I 
was  you,"  said  Miss  Penny,  still  soothingly. 
"Willy  Jaquith's  doing  real  pretty  in  the 
office,  everybody  says.     Mr.  Homer's  tickled 


116  MBS.    TBEE 

to  death  to  have  him  there,  and  they've  got 
the  place  slicked  up  so  you  wouldn't  know  it. 
I  always  thought  Homer  Hollopeter  had  a 
sufferin'  time  under  Isr'el  Nudd,  though  he 
never  said  anything.     It's  not  his  way." 

"  What  did  you  say  you  wanted  done  with 
this  skirt?"  asked  Miss  Prudence,  breaking 
in.  She  had  less  patience  than  Miss  Penny, 
and  she  bent  her  steel-bowed  spectacles  on  the 
visitor  with  a  look  which  meant,  "  Come  to 
business,  if  you  have  any ! " 

"  Well,  I  don't  hardly  know  ! "  said  Mrs. 
Weight,  unrolling  her  bundle.  "  I'm  so  upset 
with  that  screeching  Limb  there,  I  feel  every 
minute  as  if  I  should  have  palpitations.  It 
does  seem  as  if  the  larger  I  got  the  frailer  I 
was  inside.     The  co'ts  of  my  stom — " 

"I  thought  you  said  'twas  a  skirt!"  Miss 
Prudence  broke  in  again,  grimly. 

"  So  'tis.  There  !  I  got  something  on  this 
front  brea'th  the  other  day,  and  it  won't  come 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S  SHOP  117 

out,  try  all  I   can.      I    thought    inebbe    you 
could  —  " 

She  plunged  into  depths  of  pressing  and 
turning.  At  this  moment  the  shop-bell  rang, 
and  Miss  Penny  slipped  back  to  her  post. 

"  Good  mornin',  Miss  Vesta  !  Well,  you  are 
a  sight  for  sore  eyes,  as  the  saying  is." 

"  I  thank  you,  Penelope.  How  do  you  do 
this  morning  ? "  inquired  Miss  Vesta  Blyth. 
"  I  trust  yju  and  Prudence  are  both  well." 

"  Yes'm,  we're  real  smart,  sister  'n'  me  both. 
Sister's  had  the  lumbago  some  this  last  week, 
and  my  limb  has  pestered  me  so  I  couldn't  step 
on  it  none  too  lively,  but  otherways  we're  real 
smart.  I  expect  you've  come  to  see  about 
Darlin'  here." 

She  took  a  cage  from  the  window  and  placed 
it  on  the  counter.  In  it  was  a  yellow  canary, 
which  at  sight  of  its  mistress  gave  a  joyous 
flap  of  its  golden  wings,  and  instantly  broke 
into  a  flood  of  song. 


118  MRS.    TREE 

"  Oh ! "  said  Miss  Yesta,  with  a  soft  coo  of 
surprise  and  pleasure. 

"He  has  found  his  voice  again.  And  he 
looks  quite,  quite  himself.  Why,  Penelope, 
what  have  you  done  to  him  to  make  such  a 
difference  in  these  few  days  ?  Dear  little  fel- 
low !     I  am  so  pleased  ! " 

Miss  Penny  beamed.  "I  guess  you  ain't 
no  more  pleased  than  I  be,"  she  said.  "  There ! 
I  hated  to  see  him  sittin'  dull  and  bunchy  like 
he  was  when  you  brought  him  in.  I've  ben 
givin'  him  Bird  Manna  and  Bitters  right  along, 
and  I've  bathed  them  spots  till  they're  all 
gone.  I  guess  you'll  find  him  'most  as  good 
as  new.  Little  Beauty  Darlin',  so  he 
was  ! " 

"  Old  friends  !  "  said  the  parrot,  ruffling  him- 
self all  over  and  looking  at  Miss  Vesta. 
"Vesta,  Vesta,  how's  Phoebe?" 

"  Jocko  here  ! "  said  Miss  Vesta.  "  Good 
morning,  Jocko ! " 


"she  put  out  a   finger,  and   jocko  clawed  it 
without  ceremony." 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S   SHOP  119 

She  put  out  a  finger,  and  Jocko  clawed  it 
without   ceremony. 

"  I  advised  Aunt  Marcia  to  send  him  to  you, 
Penelope,  and  I  am  so  glad  she  has  done  so. 
He  seemed  quite  croupy  yesterday,  and  at  his 
age,  of  course,  even  a  slight  ailment  may  prove 
serious." 

"  How  old  is  that  bird,  Miss  Vesta,  if  I  may 
ask  ? "  said  Miss  Penny. 

"  I  know  he's  older'n  I  be,  but  I  never  liked 
to  inquire  his  age  of  Direxia*;  she  might  think 
it  was  a  reflection." 

"  I  remember  Jocko  as  long  as  I  remember 
anything"  said  Miss  Yesta.  "I  used  to  be 
afraid  of  him  when  I  was  a  child,  he  swore 
so  terribly.  The  story  was  that  he  had 
belonged  to  a  French  marquis  in  the  time 
of  the  Eevolution ;  he  certainly  knew 
many  —  violent  expressions  in  that  lan- 
guage." 

"  I  want  to  know  if   he  did ! "  exclaimed 


120  MBS.    TREE 

Miss  Penny,  regarding  the  parrot  with  some- 
thing like  admiring  awe. 

"  Why,  I've  never  heard  him  use  any  strong 
expressions,  Miss  Yesta.  He  does  speak  French 
sometimes,  but  it  doesn't  sound  like  swearin', 
not  a  mite.  Not  ten  minutes  ago  he  was 
sayin'  something  about  Jehu;  sounded  real 
Scriptural." 

"  Oh,  I  have  not  heard  him  swear  for  years," 
said  Miss  Yesta.  "Aunt  Marcia  cured  him 
by  covering  the  cage  whenever  he  said  any- 
thing unsuitable.  He  never  does  it  now,  un- 
less he  sees  some  one  he  dislikes  very  much 
indeed,  and  of  course  he  is  not  apt  to  do  that. 
Poor  Jocko  !  good  boy ! " 

"  Arma  virumque  cano ! "  said  Jocko. 
"Yesta,  Yesta,  don't  you  pester!  ri  fol  liddy 
foli,  tiddy  foliddy  folli!" 

"  Ain't  it  mysterious  ? "  said  Miss  Penny, 
in  an  awestricken  voice.  "  There !  it  always 
makes  me  think  of  the  Tower  of  Babel.     Did 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S   SHOP  121 

you  want  to  take  little  Darlin'  back  to-day, 
Miss  Blyth  ?  I  was  thinkin'  I'd  keep  him  a 
day  or  two  longer  till  his  feathers  looked  real 
handsome  and  full.  I  don't  suppose  you'd 
want  him  converted  red,  would  you,  Miss 
Vesta  ?  I'm  told  they're  real  handsome,  but 
I  don't  s'pose  you'd  want  to  resk  his  health." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,  Penelope,"  said 
Miss  Vesta.  "Bed?  You  surely  would  not 
think  of  dyeing  a  living  bird  ? " 

"  No'm !  oh,  no,  cert'in  not,  though  I  have 
heerd  of  them  as  did.  But  my  bird  book  says, 
feed  a  canary  red  pepper  and  he'll  turn  red, 
and  stay  so  till  next  time  he  moults.  I  never 
should  venture  to  resk  a  bird's  health,  not 
unless  the  parties  wished  it,  but  they  do  say 
it's  real  handsome." 

"I  should  think  it  very  wrong,  Penelope," 
said  Miss  Vesta,  seriously.  "  Apart  from  the 
question  of  the  dear  little  creature's  health,  it 
would  shock  me  very  much.     It  would  be  like 


122  MRS.    TREE 

—  a  —  dyeing  one's  own  hair  to  give  it  a  dif- 
ferent color  from  what  the  Lord  intended.  I 
am  sure  you  would  not  seriously  think  of  such 
a  thing." 

"  Oh,  no'm  ! "  said  Miss  Penny,  guiltily  con- 
scious of  certain  bottles  on  an  upper  shelf 
warranted  to  "restore  gray  hair  to  its  youth- 
ful gloss  and  gleam." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  just  feed  him  the  Bird 
Manna,  say  till  Saturday,  and  by  that  time 
he'll  be  his  own  beauty  self,  the  handsomest 
canary  in  Elmerton.     Won't  he,  Darlin'  ?  " 

"  And  I  hope  Silas  Candy  is  prepared  to  an- 
swer for  it  at  the  Judgment  Seat !  "  said  Mrs. 
Weight,  in  the  doorway  of  the  inner  room. 
"  Between  him  and  Mis'  Tree  that  Tommy 
promises  to  be  fruit  for  the  gallus  if  ever  it 
bore  any.  Every  sheet  on  the  line  with 
'  Squashnose '  wrote  on  it,  and  a  picture  of 
Isick  that  anybody  would  know  a  mile  off, 
and  all  in  green  paint.     Oh,  good    morning, 


IN  MISS  PENNY'S   SHOP  123 

Yesta !  Why,  I  thought  for  sure  you  must 
be  sick;  you  weren't  out  to  meeting  yester- 
day." 

"No,  I  was  not,"  said  Miss  Vesta,  mildly. 
"  I  trust  you  are  quite  well,  Malvina,  and  that 
the  deacon's  rheumatism  is  giving  him  less 
trouble  lately?" 

"  If  Malviny  Weight  ain't  a  case  ! "  chuckled 
Miss  Penny,  as  the  two  visitors  left  the  shop 
together.  "I  do  admire  to  see  Miss  Vesta 
handle  her,  so  pretty  and  polite,  and  yet  with 
the  tips  of  her  fingers,  like  she  would  a  dusty 
chair.  There !  what  was  I  sayin'  the  other 
day  ?  The  Blyth  girls  is  ladies,  and  Malviny 
Weight  —  " 

"  Malviny  Weight  is  a  pokin',  peerin',  pryin' 
poll  -  parrot !  "  said  Miss  Prudence's  voice, 
sharply  ;  "  that's  what  she  is  !  " 

"  Why,  Prudence  Pardon,  how  you  talk ! " 
said  Miss  Penny. 


CHAPTEE   VIII. 

A   TEA-PAETY 

"  I  wish  we  might  have  had  William  Jaquith 
as  well,"  said  Miss  Vesta.  "  It  would  have 
pleased  Mary,  and  every  one  says  he  is  doing 
so  well." 

"  I  am  quite  as  well  satisfied  as  it  is,  my 
dear  Vesta,"  replied  Miss  Phoebe.  "Let  me 
see;  one,  two,  three  —  six  cups  and  saucers, 
if  you  please ;  the  gold-sprigged  ones,  and  the 
plates  to  match.  I  think  it  is  just  as  well  not 
to  have  William  Jaquith.  I  rejoice  in  his  reform, 
and  trust  it  will  be  as  permanent  as  it  is  ap- 
parently sincere ;  but  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss 
—  no,  Vesta,  I  feel  that  the  combination  would 
hardly  have  been  suitable.  Besides,  he  and 
Cousin  Homer  could  not  both  leave  the  office 
at  once,  so  early  in  the  evening." 

124 


A   TEA-PARTY  125 

"That  is  true,"  said  Miss  Yesta.  "Which 
bowl  shall  we  use  for  the  wine  jelly,  Sister 
Phoebe  ?  I  think  the  color  shows  best  in  this 
plain  one  with  the  gold  stars ;  or  do  you  pre- 
fer the  heavy  fluted  one  ? " 

The  little  lady  was  perched  on  the  pantry- 
steps,  and  looked  anxiously  down  at  Miss 
Phoebe,  who,  comfortably  seated,  on  account 
of  her  rheumatism,  was  vainly  endeavoring  to 
find  a  speck  cf  dust  on  cup  or  dish. 

"The  star-bowl  is  best, . I  am  convinced,' 
said  Miss  Phoebe,  gravely ;  then  she  sighed. 

"  I  sometimes  fear  that  cut  glass  is  a  snare, 
Vesta.  The  pride  of  the  eye !  I  tremble,  when 
I  look  at  all  these  dishes." 

"  Surely,  Sister  Phoebe,"  said  Miss  Vesta, 
gently,  "there  can  be  no  harm  in  admiring 
beautiful  things.  The  Lord  gave  us  the  sense 
of  beauty,  and  I  have  always  counted  it  one 
of  his  choicest  mercies." 

"  Yes,  Vesta ;  but  Satan  is  full  of  wiles.     I 


126  MRS.    TREE 

have  not  your  disposition,  and  when  I  look  at 
these  shelves  I  am  distinctly  conscious  that 
there  is  no  such  glass  in  Elmerton,  perhaps 
none  in  the  State.  In  china  Aunt  Marcia 
surpasses  us,  —  naturally,  having  all  the  Tree 
china,  and  most  of  the  Darracott;  I  have 
always  felt  that  we  have  less  Darracott  china 
than  is  ours  "by  right,  —  but  in  glass  we  stand 
alone.  At  times  I  feel  that  it  may  be  my 
duty  to  give  away,  or  sell  for  the  benefit  of 
the  heathen,  all  save  the  few  pieces  which  we 
actually  need." 

"  Surely,  Sister  Phoebe,  you  would  not  do 
that!"  said  Miss  Vesta,  aghast.  "Think  of 
all  the  associations !  Four  generations  of  cut 
glass!" 

"  No,  Vesta,  I  would  not,"  said  Miss  Phoebe, 
sadly ;  "  and  that  shows  the  snare  plainly,  and 
my  feet  in  it.  We  are  perishable  clay !  Sup- 
pose we  put  the  cream  in  the  gold-ribbed  glass 
pitcher  to-night,  instead  of  the  silver  one;  it 


A    TEA-PABTY  127 

will  go  better  with  the  gold-sprigged  cups. 
After  all,  for  whom  should  we  display  our 
choicest  possessions  if  not  for  our  pastor  ? " 

Little  Mr.  Bliss,  the  new  minister,  was  not 
observant,  and  beyond  a  vague  sense  of  com- 
fort and  pleasure,  knew  nothing  of  the  ex- 
quisite features  of  Miss  Phoebe's  tea-table. 
His  wife  did,  however,  and  as  she  said  afterward, 
felt  better  every  time  the  delicate  porcelain  of 
her  teacup  to  ached  her  lips.  Mrs.  Bliss  had 
the  tastes  of  a  duchess,  and  "was  beginning  life 
on  a  salary  of  five  hundred  dollars  a  year  and 
a  house.  Doctor  Stedman  and  Mr.  Homer 
Hollopeter,  too,  appreciated  the  dainty  service 
of  the  Temple  of  Vesta,  each  in  his  own  way ; 
and  a  pleasant  cheerfulness  shone  in  the  faces 
of  all  as  Diploma  Crotty  handed  round  her 
incomparable  Sally  Lunns,  with  a  muttered 
assurance  to  each  guest  that  she  did  not  ex- 
pect they  were  fit  to  eat. 

"Phoebe,"  said   Doctor   Stedman,  "I  never 


128  MRS.    TREE 

can  feel  more  than  ten  years  old  when  I  sit 
down  at  this  table.  I  hope  you  have  put  me 
—  yes,  this  is  my  place.  Here  is  the  mark. 
You  set  this  table,  Vesta  ? " 

Miss  Vesta  blushed,  the  blush  of  a  white 
rose  at  sunset. 

"  Yes,  James,"  she  said,  softly.  "  I  remem- 
bered where  you  like  to  sit." 

"  You  see  this  dent  ?  "  said  Doctor  Stedman, 
addressing  his  neighbor,  Mrs.  Bliss ;  "  I  made 
that  when  I  was  ten  years  old.  I  used  to  be 
here  a  great  deal,  playing  with  Nathaniel, 
Miss  Blyth's  brother,  and  we  were  always 
cautioned  not  to  touch  this  table.  It  was 
always,  as  you  see  it  now,  a  shining  mirror, 
and  every  time  a  little  warm  paw  was  laid 
on  it,  it  left  a  mark.  This,  however,  was  not 
explained  to  us.  We  were  simply  told  that  if 
we  touched  that  table,  something  would  hap- 
pen ;  and  when  we  asked  what,  the  reply  was, 
'  You'll  find  out  what ! '     That  was  your  Aunt 


A    TEA-PARTY  129 

Timothea,  girls,  of  course.  Well,  Nathaniel, 
being  a  peaceful  and  docile  child,  accepted  this 
dictum.  Perhaps,  knowing  his  aunt,  he  may 
have  understood  it ;  but  I  did  not,  and  I  was 
possessed  to  find  out  what  would  happen  if  I 
touched  the  table.  Once  or  twice  I  secretly 
laid  the  tip  of  a  finger  on  it,  when  I  was  alone 
in  the  room ;  but  nothing  coming  of  it,  I 
decided  that  a  stronger  touch  was  needed  to 
bring  the  '  something '  to  pass.  There  used  to 
be  a  little  ivory  mallet  that  belonged  to  the 
Indian  gong  —  ah,  yes,  there  it  is  !  I  remem- 
ber as  if  it  were  yesterday  the  moment  when, 
finding  myself  alone  in  the  room,  I  felt  that 
my  opportunity  had  come.  I  caught  up  the 
mallet  and  gave  a  sounding  bang  on  the  sacred 
mahogany ;  then  waited  to  see  what  would 
happen.  Then  Miss  Timothea  came  in,  and  I 
found  out.  She  did  it  with  a  slipper,  and 
I  spent  most  of  the  next  week  standing  up." 
"  Our  Aunt   Timothea   Darracott   was   the 


130  MRS.    TREE 

guardian  of  our  childhood/'  Miss  Phoebe  ex- 
plained to  Mrs.  Bliss.  "  She  was  an  austere, 
but  exemplary  person.  We  derived  great 
benefit  from  her  ministrations,  which  were 
most  devoted.  A  well-behaved  child  had  little 
to  fear  from  Aunt  Timothea." 

"  You  must  not  give  our  friends  a  false  im- 
pression of  James's  childhood,  Sister  Phoebe," 
said  Miss  Vesta,  looking  up  with  the  expres- 
sion of  a  valorous  dove.  "  He  was  far  from 
being  an  unruly  child  as  a  general  thing, 
though  of  course  it  was  a  pity  about  the  table." 

"  Thank  you,  Yesta  !  "  said  Doctor  Stedman. 
"  But  I  am  afraid  I  often  got  Nat  into  mis- 
chief. Do  you  remember  your  Uncle  Tree's 
spankstick,  Phoebe  ? " 

"  Shall  we  perhaps  change  the  subject  ? " 
said  Miss  Phoebe,  with  bland  severity.  "  It 
is  hardly  suited  to  the  social  board.  Cousin 
Homer,  may  I  give  you  a  little  more  of  the 
chicken,  or  will  you  have  some  oysters  ? " 


A    TEA-PARTY  131 

"A  —  it  is  immaterial,  I  am  obliged  to 
you,  Cousin  Phoebe,"  said  Mr.  Homer  Hollo- 
peter,  looking  up  with  the  air  of  one  suddenly 
awakened.  "  The  inner  man  has  been  abun- 
dantly refreshed,  I  thank  you." 

"  The  inner  man  was  making  a  sonnet, 
Phoebe,  and  you  have  cruelly  interrupted  him," 
said  Doctor  Stedman,  not  without  a  gleam  of 
friendly  malice. 

"Not  a  sonnet,  James,  this  time,"  said  Mr. 
Homer,  coloring.  "  A  few  Jines  were,  I  con- 
fess, shaping  themselves  in  my  mind  ;  it  is  very 
apt  to  be  the  case,  when  my  surroundings  are 
so  gracious  —  so  harmonious  —  I  may  say  so 
inspiring,  as  at  the  present  moment." 

He  waved  his  hands  over  the  table,  whose 
general  effect  was  of  crystal  and  gold,  cream 
and  honey,  shining  on  the  dark  mirror  of  the 
bare  table. 

"I  agree  with  you,  I'm  sure,  Mr.  Hollo- 
peter,"    said   little   Mrs.    Bliss,   heartily.      "I 


132  MBS.    TREE 

couldn't  write  a  line  of  poetry  to  save  my  life, 
but  if  I  could,  I  am  sure  it  would  be  about 
this  table,  Miss  Blyth.  It  is  the  prettiest  table 
I  ever  saw,  and  the  prettiest  setting." 

Miss  Phoebe  looked  pleased. 

"  It  is  a  Darracott  table,"  she  said.  "  My 
aunt,  Mrs.  Tree,  has  the  mate  to  it. 
They  were  saved  when  Darracott  House  was 
burned,  and  naturally  we  value  them  highly. 
I  believe  they  formed  part  of  the  original 
furnishing  brought  over  from  England  by 
James  Lysander  James  Darracott  in  1642. 
It  is  a  matter  of  rivalry  between  our  good 
Diploma  Crotty  and  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Tree's 
domestic,  as  to  which  table  is  in  the  more 
perfect  condition.  Mrs.  Tree's  table  has  no 
dent  in  it  —  " 

"  Ah,  Phoebe,  I  shall  carry  that  dent  to  my 
grave  with  me ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman,  with  a 
twinkle  in  his  gray  eyes.  "You  will  never 
forgive  it,  I  see." 


A    TEA-PARTY  133 

"  On  the  contrary,  James,  I  forgave  it  long 
ago,"  said  Miss  Phoebe,  graciously.  "I  was 
about  to  remark  that  though  the  other  table 
has  no  dent,  it  has  a  scratch,  made  by  Jocko 
in  his  youth,  which  years  of  labor  have  failed 
to  efface.  To  my  mind,  the  scratch  is  more 
noticeable  than  the  dent,  though  both  are  to 
be  regretted.  Mr.  Bliss,  you  are  eating  noth- 
ing. I  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  give  you  a 
little  honey  i  It  is  made  by  our  own  bees, 
and  I  think  I  can  conscientiously  recommend 
it.  A  little  cream,  you  will  find,  takes  off 
the  edge  of  the  sweet,  and  makes  it  more 
palatable." 

"Miss  Blyth,  you  must  not  give  us  too 
many  good  things,"  said  the  little  minister, 
shaking  his  head,  but  holding  out  his  plate 
none  the  less.  "  Thank  you  !  thank  you  ! 
most  delicious,  I  am  sure.  I  only  hope  it  is 
not  a  snare  of  the  flesh,  Miss  Phoebe." 

He  spoke  merrily,  in  full  enjoyment  of  his 


134  MBS.    TREE 

first  spoonful  of  honey  —  not  the  colorless, 
flavorless  white  clover  variety,  but  the  golden- 
rod  honey,  rich  and  full  in  color  and  flavor 
He  smiled  as  he  spoke,  but  Miss  Phoebe 
looked  grave. 

"I  trust  not,  indeed,  Mr.  Bliss,"  she  said. 
"  It  would  ill  become  my  sister  and  me  to  lay 
snares  of  any  kind  for  your  feet.  I  always 
feel,  however,  that  milk,  or  cream,  and  honey, 
being  as  it  were  natural  gifts  of  a  bounteous 
Providence,  and  frequently  mentioned  in  the 
Scriptures,  may  be  partaken  of  in  modera- 
tion without  fear  of  over-indulgence  of  sinful 
appetites.  A  little  more  ?  Another  pound 
cake,  Mrs.  Bliss  ?  No  ?  Then  shall  we  return 
to  the  parlor  ? " 

"You  spoke  of  your  aunt,  Mrs.  Tree,  Miss 
Blyth,"  said  Mr.  Bliss,  when  they  were  seated 
in  the  pleasant,  shining  parlor  of  the  Temple 
of  Vesta,  the  red  curtains  drawn,  the  fire 
crackling  its  usual  cordial  welcome. 


A   TEA-PABTY  135 

"  She  is  a  —  a  singularly  interesting  person. 
What  vivacity  !  what  readiness !  what  a  fund 
of  information  on  a  variety  of  subjects !  She 
put  me  to  the  blush  a  dozen  times  in  a  talk  I 
had  with  her  recently." 

"Have  you  been  able  to  have  any  serious 
conversation  with  my  aunt,  Mr.  Bliss  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Phoebe,  with  a  slight  indication  of  frost 
in  her  tone.  "I  should  be  truly  rejoiced  to 
hear  that  cuch  was  the  case." 

"A  —  well,  perhaps  not  exactly  serious," 
owned  the  little  minister,  smiling  and  blush- 
ing. "In  fact,"  —  here  he  caught  his  wife's 
eye,  and  checked  himself  —  "in  fact,  —  a  — 
she  is  an  extremely  interesting  person ! "  he 
concluded,  lamely. 

"  Now,  John,  why  should  you  stop  ? "  cried 
Mrs.  Bliss.  "Mrs.  Tree  is  the  Miss  Blyths' 
own  aunt,  and  they  must  know  her  ever  so 
much  better  than  we  do.  She  was  just  as 
funny  as  she  could  be,  Miss  Blyth.     Deacon 


136  MBS.    TREE 

Weight  had  asked  Mr.  Bliss  to  call  and  reason 
with  her  on  spiritual  matters,  —  '  wrestle '  was 
what  he  said,  but  John  told  him  he  was  no 
wrestler,  —  and  so  he  went  and  tried ;  but  he 
had  hardly  said  a  word  —  had  you,  John  ? 
—  when  Mrs.  Tree  asked  him  which  he  liked 
best,  Shakespeare  or  the  musical  glasses  — 
what  do  you  suppose  she  meant,  Miss  Vesta  ? 
And  when  he  said  Shakespeare,  of  course,  she 
began  talking  about  Hamlet,  and  Macready, 
and  Mrs.  Siddons,  who  gave  her  an  orange 
when  she  was  a  little  girl,  and  he  never  got  in 
another  word,  did  you,  John  ?  And  Deacon 
Weight  was  so  put  out  when  he  heard  about 
it!     I'mgl— " 

"  Marietta,  my  love ! "  remonstrated  Mr. 
Bliss,  hastily,  "  you  forget  yourself.  Deacon 
Weight  is  our  senior  deacon." 

"  I'm  sorry,  John  !  but  Mrs.  Tree  is  just  as 
kind  as  she  can  be,"  the  little  wife  went  on, 
her  eyes  kindling  as  she  spoke.     "  Oh !  —  no, 


A    TEA-PARTY  137 

1  won't  tell,  John ;  you  needn't  be  afraid. 
Why,  she  said  that  if  I  told  she  would  set  the 
parrot  on  me,  and  she  meant  it.  That  bird 
frightens  me  out  of  my  wits.  But  she  is 
kind,  and  I  never  shall  forget  all  she  has  done 
for  us." 

"  I  understand  that  you  are  a  poet,  sir,"  the 
minister  said,  turning  to  Mr.  Homer  Hollo- 
peter,  and  evidently  desirous  of  changing  the 
subject.  "  May  I  ask  if  the  sonnet  is  your 
favorite  form  of  verse?" 

Mr.  Homer  bridled  and  colored. 

"A  —  not  at  present,  sir,"  he  replied,  mod- 
estly. "  For  some  years  I  did  feel  that  my  — 
a  —  genius,  if  I  may  call  it  so,  moved  most 
freely  in  the  fetters  of  the  sonnet ;  but  of  late 
I  have  thought  it  well  to  seek  —  to  employ  — 
to  —  a  —  avail  myself  of  the  various  forms 
in  which  the  Muse  enshrines  herself.  It  — 
gives,  if  I  may  so  express  myself,  more 
breadth  of  wing ;  more  scope  ;  more  freedom ; 


138  MBS.    TREE 

more  "  —  he  waved  his  hands  —  "  circum- 
ambiency ! " 

His  hand  went  with  a  fluttering  motion  to 
his  pocket. 

"  I  am  sure,  Cousin  Homer,"  said  Miss  Vesta, 
"our  friends  would  be  glad  to  hear  some  of 
your  poetry,  if  you  happen  to  have  any  with 
you." 

"Very  glad,"  echoed  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bliss, 
heartily.  Doctor  Stedman,  after  a  thoughtful 
glance  at  the  door,  and  another  at  the  clock, 
—  but  it  was  only  seven,  —  settled  himself 
resignedly  in  his  chair  and  said,  "  Fire  away, 
Homer I"  quite  kindly. 

Mr.  Homer  drew  forth  a  folded  paper,  and 
gazed  on  the  company  with  a  pensive  smile. 

"I  confess,"  he  said,  "the  thought  had  oc- 
curred to  me  that,  if  so  desired,  I  might  read 
these  few  lines  to  the  choice  circle  before 
whom  —  or  more  properly  which  —  I  find  my- 
self this  evening.      An  episode  has  recently 


A    TEA-PARTY  139 

occurred  in  our — a  —  midst,  Mrs.  Bliss,  which 
is  of  deep  interest  to  us  Elmertonians.  The 
return  of  a  youth,  always  cherished,  but  — 
shall  I  say,  Cousin  Phoebe,  a  temporary  estray 
from  the  —  a  —  star-y-pointing  path  ? " 

"  It  is  a  graceful  way  of  putting  it,  Cousin 
Homer,"  said  Miss  Phoebe,  with  some  austerity. 
"  I  trust  it  may  be  justified.  Proceed,  if  you 
please.     We  are  all  attention." 

Mr.  Homer  unfolded  his  paper,  and  opened 
his  lips  to  read ;  but  some,  uneasiness  seemed 
to  strike  him.  He  moved  in  his  seat,  as  if 
missing  something,  and  glanced  round  the 
room.  His  eye  fell  and  rested  on  Miss 
Phoebe,  sitting  erect  and  rigid  —  in  the  rock- 
ing-chair, his  rocking-chair !  Miss  Phoebe 
would  not  have  rocked  a  quarter  of  an  inch 
for  a  fortune ;  every  line  of  her  figure  pro- 
tested against  its  being  supposed  possible  that 
she  could  rock  in  company ;  but  there  she  sat, 
and  her  seat  was  firm  as  the  enduring  hills. 


140  MBS.    TBEE 

Mr.  Homer  sighed ;  pushed  his  chair  back  a 
little,  only  to  find  its  legs  wholly  uncompro- 
mising —  and  read  as  follows : 

"  LINES    ON    THE    RETURN    OF    A    YOUTHFUL    AND 
VALUED    FRIEND. 

"  Our  beloved  William  Jaquith 
Has  resolved  henceforth  to  break  with 

Devious  ways  ; 
And  returning  to  his  mother 
Vows  he  will  have  ne'er  another 

All  his  days. 

"  Husk  of  swine  did  not  him  nourish  ; 
Plant  of  Virtue  could  not  nourish 

Far  from  home  ; 
So  his  heart  with  longing  burned, 
And  his  feet  with  speed  returned 

To  its  dome. 

"  Welcome,  William,  to  our  village  ! 
Peaceful  dwell,  devoid  of  pillage, 

Cherished  son  ! 
On  her  sightless  steps  attendant, 
Wear  a  crown  of  light  resplendent, 

Duty  done  !  " 


A    TEA -PARTY  141 

There  was  a  soft  murmur  of  appreciation 
from  Miss  Yesta  and  Mrs.  Bliss,  followed  by 
silence.  Mr.  Homer  glanced  anxiously  at 
Miss  Phoebe. 

"  I  should  be  glad  of  your  opinion  as  to  the 
third  line,  Cousin  Phoebe,"  he  said.  "  I  had  it 
'  Satan's  ways,'  in  my  first  draught,  but  the 
expression  appeared  strong,  especially  for  this 
choice  circle,  so  I  substituted  'devious'  as 
being  more  gentle,  more  mild,  more  —  a  "  — 
he  waved  his  hands  — "  more  devoid  of  ele- 
ments likely  to  produce  discord  in  the  mind." 

"  Quite  so,  Cousin  Homer ! "  replied  Miss 
Phoebe,  with  a  stately  bend  of  her  head.  "  I 
congratulate  you  upon  the  alteration.  Satan 
has  no  place  in  an  Elmerton  parlor,  especially 
when  honored  by  the  presence  of  its  pastor." 


CHAPTEE   IX. 

A   GARDEN   PARTY 

It  was  a  golden  morning  in  mid-October; 
one  of  those  mornings  when  Summer  seems  to 
turn  in  her  footsteps,  and  come  back  to  search 
for  something  she  had  left  behind.  Wherever 
one  looked  was  gold :  gold  of  maple  and  elm 
leaves,  gold  of  late-lingering  flowers,  gold  of 
close-shorn  fields.  Over  and  in  and  through 
it  all,  airy  gold  of  quivering,  dancing  sunbeams. 

No  spot  in  all  Elmerton  was  brighter  than 
Mrs.  Tree's  garden,  which  took  the  morning  sun 
full  in  the  face.  Here  were  plenty  of  flowers 
still,  marigolds,  coreopsis,  and  chrysanthemums, 
all  drinking  in  the  sun-gold  and  giving  it  out 
again,  till  the  whole  place  quivered  with  light 
and  warmth. 

142 


"  '  CAREFUL    WITH    THAT    BRIDE    BLUSH,    WILLY. 


A    GARDEN  PARTY  143 

Mrs.  Tree,  clad  in  an  antique  fur-trimmed 
pelisse,  with  an  amazing  garden  hat  surmount- 
ing her  cap,  sat  in  a  hooded  wicker  chair  on 
the  porch  talking  to  William  Jaquith,  who 
was  tying  up  roses  and  covering  them  with 
straw. 

"Yes;  such  things  mostly  go  crisscross," 
she  was  saying.  "  Careful  with  that  Bride 
Blush,  Willy ;  that  young  scamp  of  a  Geoffrey 
Strong  gave  it  to  me,  and  I  suppose  I  shall 
have  to  tend  it  the  rest  of  my  days.  Humph ! 
pity  you  didn't  know  him ;  he  might  have  done 
something  for. that  cough.  He  got  the  girl  he 
wanted,  but  more  often  they  don't.  Look  at 
James  Stedman !  and  there's  Homer  Hollo- 
peter  has  been  in  love  with  Mary  Ashton  ever 
since  he  was  in  petticoats." 

"  With  Mary  —  do  you  mean  my  mother  ? " 
said  Jaquith,  looking  up. 

"  She  wasn't  your  mother  when  he  began  ! " 
said  the  old  lady,  tartly.     "  He  couldn't  foresee 


144  MBS.    TREE 

that  she  was  going  to  be,  could  he  ?  If  he 
had  he  might  have  asked  your  permission. 
She  preferred  George  Jaquith,  naturally. 
Women  mostly  prefer  a  handsome  scamp. 
Not  that  Homer  ever  looked  like  anything 
but  a  sheep.     Then  there  was  Lily  Bent  —  " 

She  broke  off  suddenly.  "  You're  tying  that 
all  crooked,  Will  Jaquith.  I'll  come  and  do 
it  myself  if  you  can't  do  better  than  that." 

"  I'll  have  it  right  in  a  moment,  Mrs.  Tree. 
You  were  saying  —  something  about  Lily 
Bent?" 

"There  are  half  a  dozen  lilies  bent  almost 
double ! "  Mrs.  Tree  declared,  peevishly.  "  Care- 
less !  I  paid  five  dollars  for  that  Golden  Lily, 
young  man,  and  you  handle  it  as  if  it  were  a 
yellow  turnip." 

"  Mrs.  Tree  ! " 

"Well;  what  is  it?  It's  time  for  me  to 
have  my  nap,  I  expect." 

"Mrs.  Tree,"  —  the  young  man's  voice  was 


A   GARDEN  PARTY  145 

earnest  and  pleading,  —  "I  brought  you  a  let- 
ter from  Lily  Bent  this  morning.  I  have  been 
waiting  —  I  want  to  hear  something  about 
her.  I  know  she  has  been  an  angel  of  ten- 
derness and  goodness  to  my  mother  ever  since 
—  why  does  she  stay  away  so  long  ? " 

"  Because  she's  having  a  good  time,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Mrs.  Tree,  dryly.  "  She's  been  tied 
close  enough  these  last  three  years,  what  with 
her  grandmother  and  —  one  thing  and  another. 
The  old  woman's  dead  now,*  and  small  loss. 
Everybody's  dead,  I  believe,  except  me  and  a 
parcel  of  silly  children.  I  forget  what  you 
said  became  of  that  —  of  your  wife  after  she 
left  you." 

"  She  died,"  said  Jaquith,  abstractedly. 
"Didn't  I  tell  you?  They  went  South,  and 
she  took  yellow  fever.  It  was  only  a  month 
after  —  " 

"  No,  you  did  not ! "  cried  Mrs.  Tree,  sitting 
bolt  upright.     "You  never  told   me  a   word, 


146  MBS.    TBEE 

Willy  Jaquith.  What  Providence  was  thinking 
of  when  it  made  this  generation,  passes  me  to 
conceive.  If  I  couldn't  make  a  better  one  out 
of  fish-glue  and  calico,  I'd  give  up.  Bah  !  I've 
no  patience  with  you." 

She  struck  her  stick  sharply  on  the  floor, 
and  her  little  hands  trembled. 

"  I  am  sorry  we  don't  amount  to  more,"  said 
Jaquith,  smiling,  "  But  —  I  think  my  glue  is 
hardening,  Mrs.  Tree.  Tell  me  where  Lily 
Bent  is,  that's  a  dear  good  soul,  and  why  she 
stays  away  so  long." 

"  I  can't ! "  cried  the  old  woman,  and  she 
wrung  her  hands.     "  I  cannot,  Willy." 

"  You  cannot,  and  my  mother  will  not,"  re- 
peated William  Jaquith,  slowly.  "  And  there 
is  no  one  else  I  can  or  will  ask.  Why  can 
you  not  tell  me,  Mrs.  Tree?  I  think  you 
have  no  right  to  refuse  me  so  much  informa- 
tion." 

"  Because  I  promised  not  to  tell  you  ! "  cried 


A    GARDEN  PARTY  147 

Mrs.  Tree.  "  There !  don't  speak  to  me,  or  I 
shall  go  into  a  caniption !  If  I  had  known, 
I  never  would  have  promised.  I  never  made 
a  promise  yet  that  I  wasn't  sorry  for.  Dear 
me,  Sirs  !  I  wonder  if  ever  anybody  was  so 
pestered  as  I  am. 

"  There  !  there's  James  Stedman.  Call  him 
over  here !  and  don't  you  speak  a  word  to  me, 
Willy  Jaquith,  but  finish  those  plants,  if  you 
are  ever  going  to." 

Obeying  Jaquith' s  hail,  Doctor  Stedman, 
who  had  been  for  passing  with  a  bow  and  a 
wave  of  the  hand,  turned  and  came  up  the 
garden  walk. 

"  Good  morning,  James  Stedman,"  said  Mrs. 
Tree.  "  You  haven't  been  near  me  for  a  month. 
I  might  be  dead  and  buried  twenty  times  over 
for  all  you  know  or  care  about  me.  A  pretty 
kind  of  doctor  you  are !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  of  me,  Mrs.  Tree  ? " 
asked  Doctor  Stedman,  laughing,  and  shaking 


148  MRS.    TREE 

the  little  brown  hand  held  out  to  him.  "  I'll 
come  once  a  week,  if  you  don't  take  care,  and 
then  what  would  you  say  ?  What  do  you 
want  of  me,  my  lady  ? " 

"  I  don't  want  my  bones  crushed,  just  for 
the  sake  of  giving  you  the  job  of  mending 
them,"  said  the  old  lady.  "I'd  as  lief  shake 
paws  with  a  grizzly  bear.  You  are  getting  to 
look  rather  like  one,  my  poor  James.  I've 
always  told  you  that  if  you  would  only  shave, 
you  might  have  a  better  chance  —  but  never 
mind  about  that  now.  You  were  wanting  to 
know  where  Lily  Bent  was." 

"  Was  I  ? "  said  Doctor  Stedman,  wondering 
"  Lily  Bent !  why,  I  haven't  —  " 

"Yes,  you  have,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  sharply. 
"  Or  if  you  haven't,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself.  She  is  staying  with  George  Green- 
well's  folks,  over  at  Parsonsbridge ;  his  wife 
was  her  father's  sister,  a  wall-eyed  woman  with 
crockery   teeth.     George    Greenwell,  Parsons- 


A    GARDEN  PARTY  149 

bridge,  do  you  hear  ?  There  !  now  I  must  go 
and  take  my  nap,  and  plague  take  everybody, 
I  say.     Good  morning  to  you  ! " 

Kising  from  her  seat  with  amazing  celerity, 
she  whisked  into  the  house  before  Doctor 
Stedman's  astonished  eyes,  and  closed  the  door 
smartly  after  her. 

With  a  low  whistle,  Doctor  Stedman  turned 
to  William  Jaquith. 

"  Our  old  friend  seems  agitated,"  he  said. 
"  What  has  happened  to  distress  her  ? " 

Jaquith  made  no  reply.  He  was  tying  up 
a  rosebush  with  shaking  fingers,  and  his 
usually  pale  face  was  flushed,  perhaps  with 
exertion. 

Doctor  Stedman's  bushy  eyebrows  came 
together. 

"  Hum ! "  he  said,  half  aloud.  "  Lily  Bent ! 
why,  —  ha !  yes.  How  is  your  mother,  Will  ? 
I  have  not  seen  her  for  some  time." 

"  She's  very  well,  thank  you,  sir  !  "  said  Will 


150  MBS.    TREE 

Jaquith,  hurrying  on  his  coat,  and  gathering  up 
his  gardening  tools.  "  If  you  will  excuse  me, 
Doctor  Stedman,  I  must  get  back  to  the  office ; 
Mr.  Homer  will  be  looking  for  me ;  he  gave 
me  this  hour  off,  to  see  to  Mrs.  Tree's  roses. 
Good  day." 

"  Now,  what  is  going  on  here  ? "  said  James 
Stedman  to  himself,  as,  still  standing  on  the 
porch,  he  watched  the  young  man  going  off 
down  the  street  with  long  strides.  "  The  air 
is  full  of  mystery  —  and  prickles.  And  why  is 
Lily  Bent  —  pretty  creature  !  Why,  I  haven't 
seen  her  since  I  came  back,  haven't  laid  eyes 
on  her  !  Why  is  she  brought  into  it  ?  H'm ! 
let  me  see !  Wasn't  there  a  boy  and  girl 
attachment  between  her  and  Willy  Jaquith  ? 
To  be  sure  there  was !  I  can  see  them  now 
going  to  school  together,  he  carrying  her 
satchel.  Then  —  she  had  a  long  bout  of  slow 
fever,  I  remember.  Pottle  attended  her,  and 
it's  a  wonder  —  h'm  !     But  wasn't  that  about 


A    GARDEN  PARTY  151 

the  time  when  that  little  witch,  Ada  Yere, 
came  here,  and  turned  both  the  boys'  heads, 
and  carried  off  poor  Willy,  and  half  broke 
Arthur's  heart  ?  H'm !  Well,  I  don't  know 
what  I  can  do  about  it.  Hum  !  pretty  it  all 
looks  here !  If  there  isn't  the  strawberry  bush, 
grown  out  of  all  knowledge!  We  were  big 
children,  Vesta  and  I,  before  we  gave  up  hoping 
that  it  would  bear  strawberries.  How  we 
used  to  play  here  ! " 

His  eyes  wandered  about  the  pleasant  place, 
resting  with  friendly  recognition  on  every 
knotty  shrub  and  ancient  vine. 

"  The  snowball  is  grown  a  great  tree.  How 
long  is  it  since  I  have  really  been  in  this  gar- 
den ?  Passing  through  in  a  hurry,  one  doesn't 
see  things.  That  must  be  the  rose-flowered 
hawthorn.  My  dear  little  Vesta !  I  can  see 
her  now  with  the  wreath  I  made  for  her  one 
day.  She  was  a  little  pink  rose  then  under 
the  rosy  wreath ;  now  she  is  a  white  one,  but 


152  MRS.    TREE 

more  a  rose  than  ever.  Whom  have  we 
here  ? " 

A  wagon  had  drawn  up  by  the  garden  gate 
with  two  sleepy  white  horses.  A  brown, 
white  -  bearded  face  was  turned  toward  the 
doctor. 

"  Hello,  doc',"  said  a  cheery  voice.  "  I  want 
to  know  if  that's  you  ! " 

"  Nobody  else,  Mr.  Butters  !  What  is  the 
good  word  with  you  ?  Are  you  coming  in,  or 
shall  I  —  " 

But  Mr.  Ithuriel  Butters  was  already  clam- 
bering down  from  his  seat,  and  now  came  up 
the  garden  walk  carrying  a  parcel  in  his  hand. 
An  old  man  of  patriarchal  height  and  build, 
with  hair  and  beard  to  match.  Dress  him  in 
flowing  robes  or  in  armor  of  brass  and  you 
would  have  had  Abraham  or  a  chief  of  the 
Maccabees,  "'cordin'  to,"  as  he  would  have 
said.  As  it  was,  he  was  Old  Man  Butters  of 
the  Butterses  Lane  Bo'd,  Shellback. 


A    GARDEN  PARTY  153 

He  gave  Doctor  Stedman  a  mighty  grip,  and 
surveyed  him  with  friendly  eyes. 

"Wal,  you've  been  in  furrin  parts  sence  I 
see  ye.  I  expected  you'd  come  back  some 
kind  of  outlandishman,  but  I  don't  see  but 
you  look  as  nat'ral  as  nails  in  a  door.  Ben 
all  over,  hey  ?     Seen  the  hull  consarn  ? " 

"  Pretty  near,  Mr.  Butters ;  I  saw  all  I  could 
hold,  anyhow." 

"  See  anything  to  beat  the  State  of  Maine  ? " 

"  I  think  not.     No,  certainly  not." 

"  Take  fall  weather  in  the  State  of  Maine," 
said  Mr.  Butters,  slowly,  his  eyes  roving  about 
the  sunlit  garden ;  "  take  it  when  it's  good  — 
when  it  is  good  —  it's  good,  sometimes !  Not 
but  what  I've  thought  myself  I  should 
like  to  see  furrin  parts  before  I  go.  Don't 
want  to  appear  ignorant  where  I'm  goin', 
you  understand.  Mis'  Tree  to  home,  I  pre- 
sume likely  ? " 

"  Yes,  she  is  at  home,  Mr.  Butters,  but  I  have 


154  MBS.    TREE 

an  idea  she  is  lying  down  just  now.  Perhaps 
in  half  an  hour  —  " 

"  Nothing  of  the  sort ! "  said  a  voice  like  the 
click  of  castanets ;  and  here  was  Mrs.  Tree 
again,  pelisse,  hat,  stick,  and  all.  Doctor 
Stedman  stared. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Ithuriel  ? "  said  Mrs.  Tree, 
in  a  friendly  tone,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  Sit 
down  on  the  bench !  You  may  sit  down  too, 
James,  if  you  like.  What  brings  you  in  to- 
day, Ithuriel  ? " 

"  I  brought  some  apples  in  for  Blyths's 
folks,"  said  Mr.  Butters.  "  And  I  brought  you 
a  present,  Mis'  Tree." 

He  untied  his  parcel,  and  produced  a  pair 
of  large  snowy  wings. 

"I  ben  killin'  some  gooses  lately,"  he  ex- 
plained. "  The  woman  allers  meant  to  send  you 
in  a  pair  o'  wings  for  dusters,  but  she  never  got 
round  to  it,  so  I  thought  I'd  fetch  'em  in  now. 
They're  kind  o'  handy  round  a  fireplace." 


A   GARDEN  PARTY  155 

The  wings  were  graciously  accepted  and 
praised. 

"  I  was  sorry  to  hear  of  your  wife's  death, 
Ithuriel,"  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  I  am  told  she  was 
a  most  excellent  woman." 

"  Yes'ni,  she  was ! "  said  Mr.  Butters,  soberly. 
"  She  was  a  good  woman  and  a  smart  one. 
Pleasant  to  live  with,  too,  which  they  ain't  all. 
Yes,  I  met  with  a  loss  surely  in  Loviny." 

"  Was  it  sudden  ? " 

"  P'ralsis !  She  only  lived  two  days  after 
she  was  called,  and  I  was  glad,  for  she'd  lost 
her  speech,  and  no  woman  can  stand  that. 
She  knowed  things,  you  understand,  she 
knowed  things,  but  she  couldn't  free  her 
mind.  '  Loviny,'  I  says,  '  if  you  know  me,'  I 
says,  *  jam  my  hand  ! '  She  jammed  it,  but 
she  never  spoke.  Yes'm,  'twas  a  visitation.  I 
dono  as  I  shall  git  me  another  now." 

"  Well,  I  should  hope  not,  Ithuriel  Butters  ! " 
said  Mrs.  Tree,  with  some  asperity.     "Why, 


156  MRS.    TREE 

you  are  nearly  as  old  as  I  am,  you  ridiculous 
creature,  and  you  have  had  three  wives  al- 
ready.    Aren't  you  ashamed  of  yourself  ? " 

"  Wal,  I  dono  as  I  be,  Mis'  Tree,"  said  Mr. 
Butters,  sturdily.  "  Age  goes  by  feelin's,  'pears 
to  me,  more'n  by  Family  Bibles.  Take  the 
Bible,  and  you'd  think  mebbe  I  warn't  so 
young  as  some ;  but  take  the  way  I  feel  — 
why,  I'm  as  spry  as  any  man  of  sixty  I  know, 
and  spryer  than  most  of  'em.  I  like  the  mer- 
ried  state,  and  it  suits  me.  Men-folks  is  like 
pickles,  some  ;  women-folks  is  the  brine  they're 
pickled  in;  they  don't  keep  sweet  without 
'em.  Besides,  it's  terrible  lon'some  on  a  farm, 
now  I  tell  ye,  with  none  but  hired  help,  and 
them  so  poor  you  can't  tell  'em  from  the 
broomstick  hardly,  except  for  their  eatin'." 

"  Where  is  your  stepdaughter  ?  I  thought 
she  lived  with  you." 

"Alviry?  She's  merried!"  Mr.  Butters 
threw   his    head    back    with    a   huge    laugh. 


A   GARDEN  PARTY  157 

"  Ain't  you  heerd  about  Alviry's  gittin'  mer- 
ried,  Mis'  Tree  ?     Wal,  wal ! " 

He  settled  back  in  his  seat,  and  the  light  of 
the  story-teller  came  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  expect  I'll  have  to  tell  you  about  that. 
'Bout  six  weeks  ago  —  two  months  maybe  it 
was  —  a  man  come  to  the  door  —  back  door 
—  and  knocked.  Alviry  peeked  through  the 
kitchen  winder,  —  she's  terrible  skeert  of 
tramps,  —  and  she  see  'twas  a  decent-ap- 
pearin'  man,  so  she  went  to  the  door. 

"  '  Miss*  Alviry  Wilcox  to  home  ? '  says  he. 

" '  You  see  her  before  ye ! '  says  Alviry, 
speakin'  kind  o'  short. 

"  '  I  want  to  know ! '  says  he.  '  I  was  lookin' 
for  a  housekeeper,  and  you  was  named,'  he 
says,   '  so   I   thought  I'd   come    out  and  see 

ye-' 

"  She  questioned  him,  —  Alviry's  a  master 
hand  at  questioning  —  and  he  said  he  was  a 
farmer  livin'  down  East  Parsonsbridge  way ;  a 


158  MRS.    TREE 

hundred  acres,  and  a  wood-lot,  and  six  cows, 
and  I  dono  what  all.  Wal,  Alviry's  ben  kind 
o'  uneasy,  and  lookin'  for  a  change,  for  quite 
a  spell  back.  I  suspicioned  she'd  be  movin' 
on,  fust  chance  she  got.  I  s'pose  she  thought 
mebbe  Parsonsbridge  butter  would  churn  eas- 
ier than  Shellback ;  I  dono.  Anyhow,  she 
said  mebbe  she'd  try  it  for  a  spell,  and  he 
might  expect  her  next  week.  Wal,  sir, — 
ma'am,  I  ask  your  pardon,  —  he'd  got  his  an- 
swer, and  yet  he  didn't  seem  ready  to  go.  He 
kind  o'  shuffled  his  feet,  Alviry  said,  and  stood 
round,  and  passed  remarks  on  the  weather  and 
sich ;  and  she  was  jest  goin'  to  say  she  must 
git  back  to  her  ironin',  when  he  hums  and 
haws,  and  says  he :  '  I  dono  but  'twould  be 
full  as  easy  if  we  was  to  git  merried.  I'm  a 
single  man,  and  a  good  character.  If  you've 
no  objections,  we  might  fix  it  up  that  way,'  he 
says. 

"  Wal !  Alviry  was  took  aback  some  at  that, 


A   GARDEN  PARTY  159 

and  she  said  she'd  have  to  consider  of  it,  and 
ask  my  advice  and  all.  '  Why,  land  sake ! ' 
she  says,  'I  don't  know  what  your  name  is,' 
she  says, '  let  alone  marryin'  of  ye.' 

"  So  he  told  her  his  name,  —  Job  Weezer  it 
was ;  I  know  his  folks ;  he  has  got  a  wood- 
lot,  I  guess  he's  all  right,  —  and  she  said  if 
he'd  come  back  next  day  she'd  give  him  his 
answer.  Wal,  sir,  —  ma'am,  /  should  say,  — 
when  I  come  in  from  milkin'  she  told  me.  I 
laughed  till  I  surely  thought  I'd  shake  to 
pieces ;  and  Alviry  sittin'  there,  as  sober  as  a 
jedge,  not  able  to  see  what  in  time  I  was 
laughin'  at. 

"  Wal,  all  about  it  was,  he  come  back  next 
day,  and  she  said  yes ;  and  they  was  merried 
in  a  week's  time  by  Elder  Tyson,  and  off  they 
went.  I  believe  they're  doin'  well,  and  both 
parties  satisfied ;  but  if  it  ain't  the  beat  of 
anything  ever  I  see ! " 

"  It  is  quite  scandalous,  if  that  is  what  you 


160  MRS.    TREE 

mean  ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree.     "  I  never  heard  of 
such  heathen  doings." 

"That  ain't  the  p'int ! "  said  Mr.  Butters, 
chuckling.  "They  ain't  no  spring  goslin's, 
neither  one  on  'em  ;  old  enough  to  know  their 
own  minds.  What  gits  me  is,  what  he  see  in 
Alviry ! " 


CHAPTEE   X. 

MR.   BUTTERS   DISCOURSES 

After  leaving  Mrs.  Tree's  house,  Mr.  Ithu- 
riel  Butters  drove  slowly  along  the  village 
street  toward  the  post-office.  He  jerked  the 
reins  loosely  once  or  twice,  but  for  the  most 
part  let  the  horses  take  their  own  way  ;  he 
seemed  absorbed  in  thought,  and  now  and 
then  he  shook  his  head  and  muttered  to  him- 
self, his  bright  blue  eyes  twinkling,  the  humor- 
ous lines  of  his  strong  old  face  deepening  into 
smiling  furrows.  Passing  the  Temple  of  Vesta, 
he  looked  up  sharply  at  the  windows,  seemed 
half  inclined  to  check  his  horses ;  but  no  one 
was  to  be  seen,  and  he  let  them  take  their 
sleepy  way  onward. 

161 


162  MBS.    TREE 

"  I  d'no  as  'twould  be  best,"  he  said  to  him- 
self. "  Diplomy's  a  fine  woman,  I  wouldn't  ask 
to  see  a  finer ;  but  there,  I  d'no  how  'tis.  When 
you've  had  pie  you  don't  hanker  after  puddin', 
even  when  it's  good  puddin' ;  and  Loviny  was 
pie ;  yes,  sir !  she  was,  no  mistake ;  mince,  and 
no  temperance  mince  neither.  Guess  I'll  get 
along  someways  the  rest  of  the  time.  Seems 
as  if  some  of  Alviry's  talk  must  have  got 
lodged  in  the  cracks  or  somewhere;  there's 
ben  enough  of  it  these  three  months.  Mebbe 
that'll  last  me  through.     Git  ap,  you  ! " 

Arrived  at  the  post-office,  Mr.  Butters  quitted 
his  perch  once  more,  and  with  a  word  to  the 
old  horses  (which  they  did  not  hear,  being 
already  asleep)  made  his  way  into  the  outer 
room.  Seth  Weaver,  who  was  leaning  on  the 
ledge  of  the  delivery  window,  turned  and 
greeted  the  old  man  cordially. 

"  Well,  Uncle  Ithe,  how  goes  it  ? " 

"H'are    ye,    Seth?"    replied    Mr.    Butters, 


MB.   BUTTERS  DISCOURSES  163 

*  How's  the  folks  ?  Mornin',  Homer !  anything 
for  out  our  way  ?  How's  Mother  gettin'  on, 
Seth?" 

"  She's  slim,"  replied  his  nephew,  "  real  slim, 
Mother  is.  She's  ben  doctorin'  right  along, 
too,  but  it  don't  seem  to  help  her  any.  I'm 
goin'  to  get  her  some  new  stuff  this  mornin' 
that  she  heard  of  somewhere." 

"  Help  her  ?  No,  nor  it  ain't  goin'  to  help 
her,"  said  Mr.  Butters,  with  some  heat ;  "  it's 
goin'  to  hender  her.  Parcel  o'  fools  !  She's 
taken  enough  physic  now  to  pison  a  four-year- 
old  gander.     Don't  you  get  her  no  more  ! " 

"Wal,"  said  Weaver,  easily,  "I  dono  as  it 
really  henders  her  any,  Uncle  Ithe ;  and  it 
takes  up  her  mind,  gives  her  something  to 
think  about.  She  doctored  Father  so  long, 
you  know,  and  she's  used  to  messin'  with  roots 
and  herbs ;  and  now  her  sight's  failin',  I  tell 
ye,  come  medicine  time,  she  brightens  up  and 
goes  for  it  same  as  if  it  was  new  cider.     I 


164  MBS.    TREE 

don't  know  as  I  feel  like  denyin'  her  a  portion 
o'  physic,  seein'  she  appears  to  crave  it.  She 
thought  this  sounded  like  good  searchin'  medi- 
cine, too.  Them  as  told  her  about  it  said  you 
feel  it  all  through  you." 

"I  should  think  you  would!"  retorted  Mr. 
Butters.  "  So  you  would  a  quart  of  turpentine 
if  you  took  and  swallered  it." 

"  Wal,  I  don't  know  what  else  to  do,  that's 
the  fact ! "  Weaver  admitted.  "  Mother's 
slim,  I  tell  ye.  I  do  gredge  seein'  her 
grouchin'  round,  smart  a  woman  as  she's  ben." 

"You  make  me  think  of  Sile  Stover,  out 
our  way,"  said  Mr.  Butters.  "  He  sets  up  to 
be  a  hoss  doctor,  ye  know ;  hosses  and  stock 
gen'lly.  Last  week  he  called  me  in  to  see  a 
hog  that  was  failin'  up.  Said  he'd  done  all  he 
could  do,  and  the  critter  didn't  seem  to  be 
gettin'  no  better,  and  what  did  I  advise  ? 

"  <  What  have  ye  done  ? '  says  I. 

u '  Wal,'   says    he,   '  I've    cut  his   tail,   and 


MR.   BUTTERS  DISCOURSES  165 

drawed  two  of  his  teeth,  and  I  dono  what  else 
to  do/  he  says.  Hoss  doctor  !  A  clo'es-hoss  is 
the  only  kind  he  knows  much  about,  I  calc'late." 

"  Wasn't  he  the  man  that  tried  to  cure 
Peckham's  cow  of  the  horn  ail,  bored  a  hole 
in  her  horn  and  put  in  salt  and  pepper,  —  or 
was  it  oil  and  vinegar  ? " 

Mr.  Butters  nodded.  "  Same  man  !  Now 
that  kind  of  a  man  will  always  find  folks 
enough  to  listen  to  him  and  take  up  his  dum 
notions.  I  tell  ye  what  it  is !  You  can  have 
drought,  and  you  can  have  caterpillars,  and 
you  can  have  frost.  You  can  lose  your  hay 
crop,  and  your  apple  crop,  and  your  potato 
crop;  but  there's  one  crop  there  can't  nothin' 
touch,  and  that's  the  fool  crop.  You  can 
count  on  that,  sartin  as  sin.  I  tell  ye,  Seth, 
don't  you  fill  your  mother  up  with  none  of 
that  pison  stuff.  She's  a  good  woman,  if  she 
did  marry  a  Weaver." 

Seth's  eyes  twinkled.     "Well,  Uncle  Ithe, 


166  MBS.    TBEE 

seein'  you  take  it  so  hard,"  he  said,  "  I  don't 
mind  tellin'  you  that  I'd  kind  o'  thought  the 
matter  out  for  myself ;  and  it  'peared  to  me 
that  a  half  a  pint  o'  molasses  stirred  up  with  a 
gre't  spoonful  o'  mustard  and  a  small  one  of 
red  pepper  would  look  about  the  same,  and 
taste  jest  as  bad,  and  wouldn't  do  her  a  mite 
of  harm.     I  ain't  all  Weaver  now,  be  I  ? " 

Uncle  and  nephew  exchanged  a  sympathetic 
chuckle.  At  this  moment  Mr.  Homer's  meek 
head  appeared  at  the  window. 

"There  are  no  letters  for  you  to-day,  Mr. 
Butters,"  he  said,  deprecatingly ;  "  but  here  is 
one  for  Miss  Leora  Pitcher;  she  is  in  your 
neighborhood,  I  believe  ? " 

"Wal,  depends  upon  what  you  call  neigh- 
borhood," Mr.  Butters  replied.  "  It's  two 
miles  by  the  medders,  and  four  by  the  ro'd." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Mr.  Homer,  still  more  deprecat- 
ingly ;  "  I  was  not  aware  that  the  distance  was 
so  considerable,  Mr.  Butters.     I  conceived  that 


MB.   BUTTERS  DISCOUBSES  167 

Miss  Pitcher's  estate  and  yours  were  —  adja- 
cent ;  —  a  —  contiguous  ;  —  a  —  in  point  of 
fact,  near  together." 

"  Wal,  they  ain't,"  said  Mr.  Butters ;  "  but  if 
it's  anyways  important,  mebbe  I  could  fetch  a 
compass  round  that  way." 

"  I  should  be  truly  grateful  if  you  could  do 
so,  Mr.  Butters ! "  said  Mr.  Homer,  eagerly. 
"I  —  I  feel  as  if  this  letter  might  be  of  impor- 
tance, I  confess.  Miss  Pitcher  has  sent  in 
several  times  by  various  neighbors,  and  I  have 
felt  an  underlying  anxiety  in  her  inquiries.  I 
was  rejoiced  this  morning  when  the  expected 
letter  came.  It  is  —  a  —  in  a  masculine  hand, 
you  will  perceive,  Mr.  Butters,  and  the  post- 
mark is  that  of  the  town  to  which  Miss  Pitcher's 
own  letters  were  sent.  I  do  not  wish  to  seem 
indelicately  intrusive,  but  I  confess  it  has 
occurred  to  me  that  this  might  be  a  case  of 
possible  misunderstanding  ;  of  — -a  —  aliena- 
tion ;   of  —  a  —  wounding  of   the  tendrils    of 


168  MRS.    TREE 

the  heart,  gentlemen.  To  see  a  young  person, 
especially  a  young  lady,  suffer  the  pangs  of 
hope  deferred  —  " 

Ithuriel  Butters  looked  at  him. 

"Have  you  ever  seen  Leory  Pitcher, 
Homer?"  he  asked,  abruptly. 

"  No,  sir,  I  have  not  had  that  pleasure.  But 
from  the  character  of  her  handwriting  (she 
has  the  praiseworthy  habit  of  putting  her  own 
name  on  the  envelope),  I  have  inferred  her 
youth,  and  a  certain  timidity  of  — " 

"Wal,  she's  sixty-five,  if  she's  a  day,  and 
she's  got  a  hare-lip  and  a  cock-eye.  She's 
uglier  than  sin,  and  snugger  than  eel-skin; 
one  o'  them  kind  that  when  you  prick  'em 
they  bleed  sour  milk;  and  what  she  wants 
is  for  her  brother-in-law  to  send  her  his  wife's 
clo'es,  'cause  he's  goin'  to  marry  again.  All 
Shellback's  ben  talkm*  about  it  these  three 
months." 

Mr.  Homer  colored  painfully. 


MB.   BUTTERS  DISCOUBSES  169 

"  Is  it  so  ? "  he  said,  dejectedly.  "  I  regret 
that  —  that  my  misconception  was  so  com- 
plete.    I  ask  your  pardon,  Mr.  Butters." 

"Nothin'  at  all,  nothin'  at  all,"  said  Mr. 
Butters,  briskly,  seeing  that  he  had  given  pain. 
"You  mustn't  think  I  want  to  say  anything 
against  a  neighbor,  Homer,  but  there's  no 
paintin'  Leory  Pitcher  pooty,  'cause  she 
ain't. 

"  I  ben  visitin'  with  Mis'  Tree  this  mornin'," 
he  added^  benevolently ;  "  she's  aunt  to  you,  I 
believe,  ain't  she  ? " 

"  Cousin,  Mr.  Butters,"  said  Mr.  Homer,  still 
depressed.  "Mrs.  Tree  and  my  father  were 
first  cousins.  A  most  interesting  character, 
my  cousin  Marcia,  Mr.  Butters. 

"Wal,  she  is  so,"  responded  Mr.  Butters, 
heartily.  "She  certinly  is;  ben  so  all  her 
life.  Why,  sir,  I  knew  Mis'  Tree  when  she 
was  a  gal." 

"  Sho ! "  said  Seth  Weaver,  incredulously. 


172  MBS.    TREE 

Wal,  they  come  along,  and  he  was  sayin* 
something,  and  she  answered  him  short  and 
sharp ;  I  can  see  her  now,  her  eyes  like  black 
di'monds,  and  the  red  comin'  and  goin'  in  her 
cheeks :  she  was  a  pictur  if  ever  I  seed  one. 
Pooty  soon  he  reached  out  and  co't  holt  of  her 
bridle.  Gre't  Isrel,  sir !  she  brought  down  her 
whip  like  a  stroke  of  lightning  on  his  fingers, 
and  he  dropped  the  rein  as  if  it  burnt  him. 
Then  she  whisked  round,  and  across  that 
bridge  quicker'n  any  swaller  ever  you  see. 
It  shook  like  a  poplar-tree,  but  it  hadn't  no 
time  to  fall  if  it  wanted  to ;  she  was  acrost, 
and  away  out  of  sight  before  you  could  say 
'  Simon  Peter ; '  and  he  set  there  in  the  ro'd 
cussin',  and  swearin',  and  suckin'  his  fingers. 
I  tell  ye,  I  didn't  need  no  dinner  that  day; 
I  was  full  up,  and  good  victuals,  too." 

"  This  is  extremely  interesting,  Mr.  Butters," 
said  Mr.  Homer.  "  You  —  a  —  you  present 
my  venerable  relative  in  a  wholly  new  light. 


MB.   BUTTERS  BISCOUBSES  173 

She  is  so  —  a  —  so  extremely  venerable,  if 
I  may  so  express  myself,  that  I  confess  I  have 
never  before  had  an  accurate  conception  of  her 
youth." 

"  You  thought  old  folks  was  born  old,"  said 
Mr.  Butters,  with  a  chuckle.  "Wal,  they 
warn't.  They  was  jest  as  young  as  young 
folks,  and  oftentimes  younger.  Miss  Marshy 
warn't  no  more  than  a  slip  of  a  girl  when  she 
merried.  Come  along  young  Cap'n  Tree,  jest 
got  his  first  ship,  and  the  world  in  his  pants 
pocket,  and  said  '  Snip  ! '  arid  she  warn't  back- 
ward with  her  '  Snap  ! '  I  tell  ye.  Gorry  !  they 
were  a  handsome  pair.  See  'em  come  along 
the  street,  you  knowed  how  'twas  meant  man 
and  woman  should  look.  For  all  she  was 
small,  Mis'  Tree  would  ha'  spread  out  over 
a  dozen  other  women,  the  sperit  she  had  in 
her;  and  he  was  tall  enough  for  both,  the 
cap'n  would  say.  And  proud  of  each  other! 
He'd  have  laid  down  gold  bricks  for  her  to 


174  MBS.    TREE 

walk  on  if  he'd  had  his  way.  Yes,  sir,  'twas 
a  sight  to  see  'em. 

"  There  ain't  no  such  young  folks  nowadays ; 
not  but  what  that  young  Strong  fellow  was 
well  enough ;  he  got  a  nice  gal,  too.  Wal,  sir, 
this  won't  thresh  the  oats.  I  must  be  gettin' 
along.  Think  mebbe  there  ain't  no  sech  hurry 
about  that  letter  for  Leory  Pitcher,  do  ye, 
Homer  ?     I'll  kerry  it  if  you  say  so." 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Butters,"  said  Mr. 
Homer,  sadly,  "  it  is  immaterial,  I  am  obliged 
to  you." 


CHAPTEK  XL 

MISS   PHCEBE   PASSES    ON 

Miss  Phcebe  Blyth's  death  came  like  a 
bolt  from  a  clear  sky.  The  rheumatism, 
which  had  for  so  many  years  been  her  com- 
panion, struck  suddenly  at  her  heart.  A  few 
hours  of  anguish,  and  the  stout  heart  had 
ceased  to  beat,  the  stern  yet  kindly  spirit  was 
gone  on  its  way. 

Great  was  the  grief  in  the  village.  If  not 
beloved  as  Miss  Vesta  was,  Miss  Phoebe  was 
venerated  by  all,  as  a  woman  of  austere  and 
exalted  piety  and  of  sterling  goodness.  All 
Elmerton  went  to  her  funeral,  on  a  clear 
October  day  not  unlike  Miss  Phoebe  herself, 
bright,  yet  touched  with  wholesome  frost.  All 
Elmerton  went  about  the  rest  of  the  day  with 

175 


174  MBS.   TREE 

walk  on  if  he'd  had  his  way.  Yes,  sir,  'twas 
a  sight  to  see  'em. 

"  There  ain't  no  such  young  folks  nowadays ; 
not  but  what  that  young  Strong  fellow  was 
well  enough ;  he  got  a  nice  gal,  too.  Wal,  sir, 
this  won't  thresh  the  oats.  I  must  he  gettin' 
along.  Think  mebbe  there  ain't  no  sech  hurry 
about  that  letter  for  Leory  Pitcher,  do  ye, 
Homer  ?     I'll  kerry  it  if  you  say  so." 

"I  thank  you,  Mr.  Butters,"  said  Mr. 
Homer,  sadly,  "  it  is  immaterial,  I  am  obliged 
to  you." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

MISS   PHGEBE    PASSES    ON 

Miss  Phcebe  Blyth's  death  came  like  a 
bolt  from  a  clear  sky.  The  rheumatism, 
which  had  for  so  many  years  been  her  com- 
panion, struck  suddenly  at  her  heart.  A  few 
hours  of  anguish,  and  the  stout  heart  had 
ceased  to  beat,  the  stern  yet  kindly  spirit  was 
gone  on  its  way. 

Great  was  the  grief  in  the  village.  If  not 
beloved  as  Miss  Vesta  was,  Miss  Phoebe  was 
venerated  by  all,  as  a  woman  of  austere  and 
exalted  piety  and  of  sterling  goodness.  All 
Elmerton  went  to  her  funeral,  on  a  clear 
October  day  not  unlike  Miss  Phoebe  herself, 
bright,  yet  touched  with  wholesome  frost.  All 
Elmerton  went  about  the  rest  of  the  day  with 

175 


176  MRS.    TREE 

hushed  voice  and  sober  brow,  looking  up  at 
the  closed  shutters  of  the  Temple  of  Vesta, 
and  wondering  how  it  fared  with  the  gentle 
priestess,  now  left  alone.  The  shutters  were 
white  and  fluted,  and  being  closed,  heightened 
the  effect  of  clean  linen  which  the  house  al- 
ways presented  —  linen  starched  to  the  point 
of  perfection,  with  a  dignified  frill,  but  no 
frivolity  of  lace  or  trimming. 

"  I  do  declare,"  said  Miss  Penny  Pardon, 
telling  her  sister  about  it  all,  "the  house 
looked  so  like  Miss  Blyth  herself,  I  expected 
to  hear  it  say,  '  Pray  step  in  and  be  seated ! ' 
just  like  she  used  to.  Elegant  manners  Miss 
Blyth  had;  and  she  walked  elegant,  too,  in 
spite  of  her  rheumatiz.  When  I  see  her 
go  past  up  the  street,  I  always  said,  *  There 
goes  a  lady,  let  the  next  be  who  she 
will!"' 

"  Yes,"  said  Miss  Prudence,  with  a  sigh ;  "  if 
Phoebe  Blyth  had  but  dressed  as  she  might, 


MISS  PHCEBE  PASSES   ON  177 

there's  no  one  in  Elmerton  could  have  stood 
beside  her  for  style.  I've  told  her  so,  time 
and  again,  but  she  never  would  hear  a  word. 
She  was  peculiar." 

"  There !  I  expect  we're  all  peculiar,  sister, 
one  way  or  another,"  said  Miss  Penny,  sooth- 
ingly. This  matter  of  the  Blyth  girls'  dressing 
was  Miss  Prudence's  great  grievance,  and  just 
now  it  was  heightened  by  circumstances. 

"Miss  Blyth's  mind  was  above  clothes,  I 
expect,  Prudence,"  Miss  Penny  continued. 
"'Twa'n't  that  she  hadn't  every  confidence  in 
you,  for  I've  heard  her  speak  real  handsome  of 
your  method." 

"  A  person's  mind  has  no  call  to  be  above 
clothes,"  said  Miss  Prudence,  with  some  asper- 
ity. "  They  are  all  that  stands  between  us  and 
savages,  some  think.  But  I've  no  wish  to  cast 
reflections  this  day.  Miss  Blyth  was  a  fine 
woman,  and  she  is  a  great  loss  to  this  village. 
But  I  do  say  she  was  peculiar,  and  I'll  stand 


178  MES.    TREE 

to  that  with  my  dying  breath  ;  and  I  do  think 
Vesta  shows  a  want  of  —  " 

She  stopped  abruptly.  The  shop-bell  rang, 
and  Mrs.  Weight  entered,  crimson  and  pant- 
ing. She  hurried  across  the  shop,  and  entered 
the  sewing-room  before  Miss  Penny  could  go 
to  meet  her. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "here  I  am!  How  do 
you  do,  Prudence  ?  You  look  re'l  poorly. 
Girls,  I've  come  straight  to  you.  I'm  not 
one  to  pass  by  on  the  other  side,  never  was. 
I  like  to  sift  a  thing  to  the  bottom,  and  get 
the  rights  of  it.  I'm  not  one  to  spread  abroad, 
but  when  I  do  speak,  I  desire  to  speak  the 
truth,  and  for  that  truth  I  have  come  to  you." 

She  paused,  and  fixed  a  solemn  gaze  on  the 
two  sisters. 

"  You'll  get  it ! "  said  Miss  Prudence,  a 
steely  glitter  coming  into  her  gray  eyes. 
"We  ain't  in  the  habit  of  tellin'  lies  here,  as 
I  know  of.     What  do  you  want  ? " 


MISS  PHOEBE  PASSES  ON  179 

"  I  want  to  know  if  it's  true  that  Vesta 
Blyth  isn't  going  to  wear  mourning  for  her 
sole  and  only  sister.  I  want  to  know  if  it's 
so  !  You  could  have  knocked  me  down  with 
a  broom-straw  when  I  see  her  settin'  there  in 
her  gray  silk  dress,  for  all  the  world  as  if  we'd 
come  to  sewin'-circle  instead  of  a  funeral.  I 
don't  know  when  I  have  had  such  a  turn ; 
I  was  palpitating  all  through  the  prayer. 
Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  just  how  'tis, 
girls,  for,  of  course,  you  know  —  unless  she 
sent  over  to  Cyrus  for  her  things,  and  they 
been  delayed.  I  shouldn't  hardly  have  thought 
she'd  have  done  that,  though  some  say  that 
new  dressmaker  over  there  has  all  the  styles 
straight  from  New  York.     What  say  ? " 

"  I  don't  know  as  I've  said  anything  yet," 
said  Miss  Prudence,  with  ominous  calm.  "  I 
don't  know  as  I've  had  a  chance.  But  it's 
true  that  Miss  Vesta  Blyth  don't  intend  to 
put  on  mourning." 


180  MRS.    TREE 

"Well,  I  —  " 

For  once,  words  seemed  to  fail  Mrs.  Weight, 
and  she  gaped  upon  her  hearers  open-mouthed ; 
but  speech  returned  quickly. 

"  Girls,  I  would  not  have  believed  it,  not 
unless  I  had  seen  it  with  these  eyes.  Even  so, 
I  supposed  most  likely  there  had  been  some 
delay.  I  asked  Mis'  Tree  as  we  were  comin' 
out  —  she  spoke  pleasant  to  me  for  once  in 
her  life,  and  I  knew  she  must  be  thinkin'  of 
her  own  end,  and  I  wanted  to  say  something, 
so  I  says,  'Vesta  ain't  got  her  mournin'  yet, 
has  she,  Mis'  Tree?' 

"  She  looked  at  me  jest  her  own  way,  her 
eyes  kind  o'  sharpenin'  up,  and  says,  '  Neither 
has  the  Emperor  of  Morocco !  Isn't  it  a 
calamity  ? ' 

"I  dono  what  she  meant,  unless  'twas  to 
give  me  an  idee  what  high  connections  they 
had,  though  it  ain't  likely  there's  anything  of 
that  sort;  I  never  heerd  of  any  furrin  blood 


MISS  PHOSBE  PASSES   ON  181 

in  either  family :  but  I  see  'twas  no  use  tryin' 
to  get  anything  out  of  her,  so  I  come  straight 
to  you.  And  here  you  tell  me  —  what  does  it 
mean,  Prudence  Pardon  ?  Are  we  in  a  Chris- 
tian country,  I  want  to  know,  or  are  we  not  ? " 

Miss  Prudence  knit  her  brows  behind  her 
spectacles.  "  I  don't  know,  sometimes,  whether 
we  are  in  a  Christian  country  or  whether  we 
ain't,"  she  said,  grimly.  "  Miss  Phoebe  Blyth 
didn't  approve  of  mourning,  on  religious 
grounds  ;  and  Miss  Vesta  feels  it  right  to  carry 
out  her  sister's  views.  That's  all  there  is  to 
it,  I  expect ;  I  expect  it's  their  business,  too, 
and  not  other  folks'." 

"Miss  Phoebe  thought  mournin'  wa'n't  a 
Christian  custom,"  said  Miss  Penny.  "  I've 
heard  her  say  so ;  and  that  'twas  payin'  too 
much  respect  to  the  perishin'  flesh.  We  don't 
feel  that  way,  Sister  an'  me,  but  them  was  her 
views,  and  she  was  a  consistent,  practical 
Christian,  if  ever  I  see  one.     I  don't  think  it 


182  MRS.    TREE 

strange,  for  my  part,  that  Miss  Vesta  should 
wish  to  do  as  was  desired,  though  very  likely 
her  own  feelin's  may  have  ben  different.  She 
would  be  a  perfect  pictur'  in  a  bunnet  and 
veil,  though  I  dono  as  she  could  look  any 
prettier  than  what  she  did  to-day." 

"  If  I  could  have  the  dressin'  of  Vesta  Blyth 
as  she  should  be  dressed,"  said  Miss  Prudence, 
solemnly,  "there's  no  one  in  this  village  — 
I'll  go  further,  and  say  county  —  that  could 
touch  her.  She  hasn't  the  style  of  Phoebe,  but 
—  there !  there's  like  a  light  round  her  when 
she  moves ;  I  don't  know  how  else  to  put  it. 
It's  like  stickin'  the  scissors  into  me  every  time 
I  cut  them  low  shoulders  for  her.  I  always 
did  despise  a  low  shoulder,  long  before  I  ever 
thought  I  should  be  cuttin'  of  'em." 

"  Well,  girls,"  said  Mrs.  Weight,  "  you  may 
make  the  best  of  it,  and  it's  handsome  in  you, 
I  will  say,  Prudence,  for  of  course  you  natu- 
rally   looked  to  have  the  cuttin',  and  I  sup- 


MISS   PHCEBE  PASSES   ON  183 

pose  all  dressmakers  get  something  ex  try  for 
mournin',  seein'  it's  a  necessity,  or  is  thought 
so  by  most  Christian  people.  But  I  am  the 
wife  of  the  senior  deacon  of  the  parish  wherein 
she  sits,  and  I  feel  a  call  to  speak  to  Vesta 
Blyth  before  I  sleep  this  night.  Our  pastor's 
wife  is  young,  and  though  I  am  aware  she 
means  well,  she  hasn't  the  stren'th  nor  yet  the 
faculty  to  deal  with  folks  as  is  older  than  her- 
self on  spiritual  matters ;  so  I  feel  it  laid  upon 
me  —  " 

"  I  thought  it  was  clothes  you  was  talkin' 
about,"  said  Miss  Prudence,  and  she  closed  her 
scissors  with  a  snap.  "  I  hope  you'll  excuse 
me,  Mis'  Weight,  but  you  speakin'  to  Vesta 
Blyth  about  spiritual  matters  seems  to  me  jest 
a  leetle  mite  like  a  hen  teachin'  a  swallow  to 

fly-" 

While  this  talk  was  going  on,  little  Miss 
Vesta,  in  her  gray  gown  and  white  kerchief, 


184  MRS.    TREE 

was  moving  softly  about  the  lower  rooms  of 
the  Temple  of  Vesta,  setting  the  chairs  in  their 
accustomed  places,  passing  a  silk  cloth  across 
their  backs  in  case  of  finger-marks,  looking 
anxiously  for  specks  of  dust  on  the  shining 
tables  and  whatnots,  putting  fresh  flowers  in 
the  vases.  Some  well-meaning  but  uncom- 
prehending friends  had  sent  so-called  "  funeral 
flowers,"  purple  and  white ;  to  these  Miss  Vesta 
added  every  glory  of  yellow,  every  blaze  of 
lingering  scarlet,  that  the  garden  afforded. 
She  threw  open  the  shutters,  and  let  the  after- 
noon sun  stream  into  the  darkened  rooms. 

Diploma  Crotty,  standing  in  a  corner,  her 
hands  folded  in  her  apron,  her  eyes  swollen 
with  weeping,  watched  with  growing  anxiety 
the  slight  figure  that  seemed  to  waver  as  it 
moved  from  very  fatigue. 

"That  strong  light'll  hurt  your  eyes,  Miss 
Blyth,"  she  said,  presently.  "  You  go  and  lay 
down,  and  I'll  bring  you  a  cup  of  tea." 


MISS  PHOSBE  PASSES   ON  185 

"  No,  I  thank  you,  Diploma,"  said  Miss  Vesta, 
quietly ;  and  she  added,  with  a  soft  hurry  in 
her  voice,  "  And  if  you  would  please  not  to 
call  me  Miss  Blyth,  my  good  Diploma,  I  should 
be  grateful  to  you.  Say  '  Miss  Vesta,' "  as  usual, 
if  you  please.  I  desire  —  let  us  keep  things  as 
they  have  been —  as  they  have  been.  My  be- 
loved sister  has  gone  away"  —  the  soft  even 
voice  quivered,  but  did  not  break — "  gone  away, 
but  not  far.  I  am  sure  I  need  not  ask  you,  Di- 
ploma, to  help  me  in  keeping  everything  as  my 
dear  sister  would  like  best  to  have  it.  You  know 
so  well  about  almost  every  particular ;  but  — 
she  preferred  to  have  the  tidies  straight,  not 
cornerwise.  You  will  not  feel  hurt,  I  am 
sure,  if  I  alter  them.  They  are  beautifully 
done  up,  Diploma ;  it  would  be  a  real  pleasure 
to  my  dear  sister  to  see  them." 

"I  knew  they  were  on  wrong,"  said  the 
handmaid,  proceeding  to  aid  in  changing  the 
position    of    the    delicate    crocheted    squares. 


186  MRS.    TBEE 

"  Mis'  Bliss  wanted  to  do  something  to  help,  — 
she's  real  good,  —  and  I  had  them  just  done 
up,  and  thought  she  couldn't  do  much  harm 
with  'em.  There !  I  knew  Deacon  Weight 
wouldn't  rest  easy  till  he  got  his  down  under 
him.  He's  got  it  all  scrunched  up,  settin'  on 
it.  It  doos  beat  all  how  that  man  routs  round 
in  his  cheer." 

"  Hush,  Diploma !  I  must  ask  you  not  to 
speak  so,"  said  Miss  Vesta.  "  Deacon  Weight 
is  an  officer  of  the  church.  I  fear  he  may 
have  chosen  a  chair  not  sufficiently  ample  for 
his  person.  There,  that  will  do  nicely  !  Now 
I  think  the  room  looks  quite  as  my  dear  sister 
would  wish  to  see  it.  Does  it  not  seem  so  to 
you,  Diploma  ? " 

"  The  room's  all  right,"  said  Diploma,  gruffly ; 
"but  if  Miss  Blyth  was  here,  she'd  tell  you 
to  go  and  lay  down  this  minute,  Miss  Vesty, 
and  so  I  bid  you  do.  You're  as  white  and 
scrunched    as    that   tidy.     No    wonder,    after 


MISS  PHOEBE  PASSES   ON  187 

settin'  up  these  two  nights,  and  all  you've  ben 
through.  I  wish  to  goodness  Doctor  Strong 
had  ben  here ;  he'd  have  made  you  get  a  nurse, 
whether  or  whethern't.  Doctor  Stedman  ain't 
got  half  the  say-so  to  him  that  Doctor  Strong 
has." 

"  You  are  mistaken,  Diploma ! "  said  Miss 
Vesta,  blushing.  "  Doctor  Stedman  spoke 
strongly,  very  strongly  indeed.  He  was  very 
firm  on  the  point ;  indeed,  he  became  incensed 
about  it,  but  it  was  not  a  point  on  which  I 
could  give  way.  My  dear  sister  always  said 
that  no  hireling  should  ever  touch  her  person, 
and  I  consider  it  one  of  my  crowning  mercies 
that  I  was  able  to  care  for  her  to  the  last ;  with 
your  help,  my  dear  Diploma !  I  could  not 
have  done  it  without  your  help.  I  beg  you 
to  believe  how  truly  grateful  I  am  to  you  for 
your  devotion." 

"  Well,  there  ain't  no  need,  goodness  knows ! " 
grumbled  Diploma  Crotty,  "  but  if  so  you  be, 


188  MBS.    TREE 

you'll  go  and  lay  down  now,  Miss  Ye  sty,  like 
a  good  girl.  There  !  there's  Mis'  Weight  comin' 
up  the  steps  this  minute  of  time.  I'll  go  and 
tell  her  you're  on  the  bed  and  can't  see  her." 

Was  it  Miss  Vesta,  gentle  Miss  Vesta,  who 
answered  ?  It  might  have  been  Miss  Phoebe, 
with  head  erect  and  flashing  eyes  of  displeas- 
ure. 

"  You  will  tell  the  simple  truth,  Diploma,  if 
you  please.  Tell  Mrs.  Weight  that  I  do  not 
desire  to  see  her.  She  should  know  better 
than  to  call  at  this  house  to-day  on  any  pre- 
tence whatever.  My  dear  sister  would  have 
been  highly  incensed  at  such  a  breach  of  pro- 
priety. I  — "  the  fire  faded,  and  the  little 
figure  drooped,  wavered,  rested  for  a  moment 
on  the  arm  of  the  faithful  servant.  "  I  thank 
you,  my  good  Diploma.  I  will  go  and  lie 
down  now,  as  you  thoughtfully  suggest." 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE   PEAK   IN   DAPJEN 

Then  felt  I  like  some  watcher  of  the  skies 
When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken  : 
Or  like  stout  Cortez,  when  with  eagle  eyes 
He  stared  at  the  Pacific,  and  all  his  men 
Look'd  at  each  other  with  a  wild  surmise  — 
Silent,  upon  a  peak  in  Darien. 

—  John  Keats. 

Behind  the  yellow  walls  of  the  post-office 
Mr.  Homer  Hollopeter  mourned  deeply  and 
sincerely  for  his  cousin.  The  little  room  de- 
voted to  collecting  and  dispensing  the  United 
States  mail,  formerly  a  dingy  and  sordid  den, 
had  become,  through  Mr.  Homer's  efforts,  cheer- 
fully seconded  by  those  of  Will  Jaquith,  a  little 
temple  of  shining  neatness,  where  even  Miss 


190  MBS.    TBEE 

Phoebe's  or  Miss  Vesta's  dainty  feet  might 
have  trod  without  fear  of  pollution.  It  was 
more  like  home  to  Mr.  Homer  than  the  bare 
little  room  where  he  slept,  and  now  that  it 
was  his  own,  he  delighted  in  dusting,  polish- 
ing, and  cleaning,  as  a  woman  might  have 
done.  The  walls  were  brightly  whitewashed, 
and  adorned  with  portraits  of  Keats  and  Shel- 
ley ;  on  brackets  in  two  opposite  corners  Homer 
and  Shakespeare  gazed  at  each  other  with  mu- 
tual approval.  The  stove  was  black  and  glossy 
as  an  Ashantee  chief,  and  the  clock,  once  an 
unsightly  mass  of  fly-specks  and  cobwebs,  now 
showed  a  white  front  as  immaculate  as  Mr. 
Homer's  own.  Opposite  the  clock  hung  a 
large  photograph,  in  a  handsome  gilt  frame, 
of  a  mountain  peak  towering  alone  against  a 
clear  sky. 

When  Mr.  Homer  entered  the  post-office 
the  day  after  Miss  Phoebe's  funeral,  he  carried 
in   his   hand   a  fine  wreath   of   ground   pine 


THE  PEAK  IN  DAEIEN  191 

tied  with  a  purple  ribbon,  and  this  wreath  he 
proceeded  to  hang  over  the  mountain  picture. 
Will  Jaquith  watched  him  with  wondering 
sympathy.  The  little  gentleman's  eyes  were 
red,  and  his  hands  trembled. 

"  Let  me  help  you,  sir ! "  cried  Jaquith, 
springing  up.  "  Let  me  hang  it  for  you,  won't 
you?" 

But  Mr.  Homer  waved  him  off,  gently  but 
decidedly. 

"  I  thank  you,  William,  I  thank  you ! "  he 
said, "  but  I  prefer  to  perform  this  action  myself. 
It  is  —  a  tribute,  sir,  to  an  admirable  woman. 
I  wish  to  pay  it  in  person ;  in  person." 

After  some  effort  he  succeeded  in  attach- 
ing the  wreath,  and,  standing  back,  surveyed  it 
with  mournful  pride. 

"I  think  that  looks  well,"  he  said.  "My 
fingers  are  unaccustomed  to  twine  any  gar- 
lands save  those  of  —  a  —  song ;  but  I  think 
that  looks  well,  William  ?  " 


192  MBS.    TREE 

"  Very  well,  sir ! "  said  Will,  heartily.  « It 
is  a  very  handsome  wreath;  and  how  pretty 
the  green  looks  against  the  gold  ! " 

"  The  green  is  emblematic ;  it  is  the  color  of 
memory,"  said  Mr.  Homer.  "  This  wreath, 
though  comparatively  enduring,  will  fade, 
William  ;  will  —  a  —  wither ;  will  —  a  —  be- 
come dessicated  in  the  natural  process  of 
decay ;  but  the  memory  of  my  beloved 
cousin  will  endure,  sir,  in  one  faithful  heart, 
while  that  heart  continues  to  —  beat ;  to  — 
throb ;  to  —  a  —  palpitate." 

He  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  gazing  at 
the  picture  ;  then  he  continued  : 

"  I  had  hoped,"  he  said,  sadly,  "  that  at  some 
date  in  the  near  future  my  dear  cousin  would 
have  condescended  to  visit  our  —  retreat,  Will- 
iam, and  have  favored  it  with  the  seal  of  her 
approval.  I  venture  to  think  that  she  would 
have  found  its  conditions  improved ;  amelio- 
rated —  a  —  rendered  more  in  accordance  with 


THE  PEAK  IN  DABIEN  193 

the  ideal.  But  it  was  not  to  be,  sir,  it  was 
not  to  be.  As  the  lamented  Keats  observes, 
'  The  Spirit  mourn' d  "  Adieu  !  " '  She  is  gone, 
sir;  gone!" 

"I  have  often  meant  to  ask  you,  sir,"  said 
Will  Jaquith,  "  what  mountain  that  is.  I  don't 
seem  to  recognize  it." 

Mr.  Homer  was  silent,  his  eyes  still  fixed 
on  the  picture.  Jaquith,  thinking  he  had  not 
heard,  repeated  the  question. 

"  I  heard  you,  William,  I  heard  you  ! "  said 
Mr.  Homer,  with  dignity.  "  I  was  considering 
what  reply  to  make  to  you.  That  picture,  sir, 
represents  a  Peak  in  Darien." 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Will,  in  surprise.  "  Do  you 
know  its  name  ?  I  did  not  think  there  were 
any  so  high  as  this." 

Mr.  Homer  waved  his  hands  with  a  vague 
gesture. 

"  I  do  not  know  its  name ! "  he  said, 
"  Therefore  I  expressly  said,  a  peak     I  do  not 


194  MRS.    TBEE 

even  know  that  this  special  mountain  is  in 
Darien,  though  I  consider  it  so ;  I  consider  it 
so  The  picture,  William,  is  a  symbolical  one 
—  to  me.     It  represents  —  a  —  Woman." 

"  Woman ! "  repeated  Jaquith,  puzzled. 

"  Woman  ! "  said  Mr.  Homer.  His  mild 
face  flushed;  he  cleared  his  throat  nervously, 
and  opened  and  shut  his  mouth  several  times. 

"  I  pay  to-day,  as  I  have  told  you,  my  young 
friend,  a  tribute  to  one  admirable  woman ;  but 
the  Peak  in  Darien  symbolizes  —  a  —  Woman, 
in  general.  Without  Woman,  sir,  what,  or 
where,  should  we  be  ?  Until  we  attain  a 
knowledge  of  —  a  —  Woman,  through  the 
medium  of  the  —  a  —  Passion  (I  speak  of 
it  with  reverence  !),  what,  or  where  are  we  ? 
We  journey  over  arid  plains,  we  flounder  in 
treacherous  quagmires.  Suddenly  looms  be- 
fore us,  clear  against  the  sky,  as  here  rep- 
resented, the  Peak  in  Darien  —  Woman  ! 
Guided  by  the  —  a  —  Passion  (I  speak  of  its 


THE  PEAK  IN  DARIEN  195 

lofty  phases,  sir,  its  lofty  phases !),  we  scale 
those  crystal  heights.  It  may  be  in  fancy 
only;  it  may  be  that  circumstances  over 
which  we  have  no  control  forbid  our  ever 
setting  an  actual  foot  on  even  the  bases  of 
the  Peak ;  but  this  is  a  case  in  which  fancy  is 
superior  to  fact.  In  fancy,  we  scale  those 
heights ;  and  —  and  we  stare  at  the  Pacific, 
sir,  and  look  at  each  other  with  a  wild  sur- 
mise —  silent,  sir,  silent,  upon  a  Peak  in 
Darien!" 

Mr.  Homer  said  no  more,  but  stood  gazing 
at  his  picture,  rapt  in  contemplation.  Jaquith 
was  silent,  too,  watching  him,  half  in  amuse- 
ment, half  —  or  more  than  half  —  in  some- 
thing not  unlike  reverence.  Mr.  Homer  was 
not  an  imposing  figure :  his  back  was  long,  his 
legs  were  short,  his  hair  and  nose  were  dis- 
tinctly absurd ;  but  now,  the  homely  face 
seemed  transfigured,  irradiated  by  an  inward 
glow  of  feeling. 


196  MBS.    TREE 

Jaquith  recalled  Mrs.  Tree's  words.  Had 
this  quaint  little  gentleman  really  been  in  love 
with  his  beautiful  mother  ?  Poor  Mr.  Homer ! 
It  was  very  funny,  but  it  was  pathetic,  too. 
Poor  Mr.  Homer ! 

The  young  man's  thoughts  ran  on  swiftly. 
The  Peak  in  Darien !  Well,  that  was  all  true. 
Only,  how  if  —  unconsciously  he  spoke  aloud, 
his  eyes  on  the  picture  —  "How  if  a  man 
were  misled  for  a  time  by  —  I  shall  have  to 
mix  my  metaphors,  Mr.  Homer  —  by  a  will- 
o'-the-wisp,  and  fell  into  the  quagmire,  and 
lost  sight  of  his  mountain  for  a  time,  only  to 
find  it  again,  more  lovely  than  —  would  he 
have  any  right  to  —  what  was  it  you  said, 
sir  ?  —  to  try  once  more  to  scale  those  crystal 
heights  ? " 

"  Undoubtedly  he  would  !  "  said  Mr.  Homer 
Hollopeter.  "  Undoubtedly,  if  he  were  sure 
of  himself,  sure  that  no  false  light  —  I  per- 
ceive the  mixture  of  metaphors,  but  this  can- 


THE  PEAK  IN  DARIEN  197 

not  always  be  avoided  —  would  again  fall 
across  his  path." 

"He  is  sure  of  that!"  said  Will  Jaquith, 
under  his  breath. 

He  had  risen,  and  the  two  men  were  stand- 
ing side  by  side,  both  intent  upon  the  picture. 
Twilight  was  falling,  but  a  ray  of  the  setting 
sun  stole  through  the  little  window,  and  rested 
upon  the  Peak  in  Darien. 

"  He  is  sure  of  that ! "  repeated  William 
Jaquith. 

When  he  spoke  again,  his  voice  was  husky, 
his  speech  rapid  and  broken. 

"  Mr.  Homer  "  (no  one  ever  said  "  Mr.  Hol- 
lopeter,"  nor  would  he  have  been  pleased  if 
any  one  had),  "  I  have  been  here  six  months, 
have  I  not  ?  six  months  to-morrow  ? " 

"Yes,  William,"  said  Mr.  Homer,  turning 
his  mild  eyes  on  his  assistant. 

"  Have  I  —  have  I  given  satisfaction,  sir  ?  " 

"  Eminent  satisfaction  ! "    said   Mr.   Homer, 


198  MRS.    TBEE 

cordially.  "  William,  I  have  had  no  fault  to 
find ;  none.  Your  punctuality,  your  exactness, 
your  assiduity,  leave  nothing  to  be  desired. 
This  has  been  a  great  gratification  to  me  —  on 
many  accounts." 

"  Then,  you  —  you  think  I  have  the  right 
to  call  myself  a  man  once  more ;  that  I  have 
the  right  to  take  up  a  man's  life,  its  joys,  as 
well  as  its  labors  ? " 

"  I  think  so,  most  emphatically,"  cried  the 
little  gentleman,  nodding  his  head.  "  1  think 
you  deserve  the  best  that  life  has  to  give." 

"  Then  —  then,  Mr.  Homer,  may  I  have  a 
day  off  to-morrow,  please  ?  I  want "  —  he 
broke  into  a  tremulous  laugh,  and  laid  his 
hand  on  the  elder  man's  shoulder,  —  "I  want 
to  climb  the  Peak,  Mr.  Homer  ! " 

So  it  came  to  pass  one  day,  soon  after  this, 
that  as  Mrs.  Tree  was  sitting  by  her  fire,  with 
the   parrot    dozing  on    his    perch  beside    her, 


THE  PEAK  IN  DAEIEN  199 

there  came  to  the  house  two  young  people, 
who  entered  without  knock  or  ring,  and  com- 
ing hand  in  hand  to  her  side,  bent  down,  not 
saying  a  word,  and  kissed  her. 

"  Highty  tighty ! "  cried  Mrs.  Tree,  her  eyes 
twinkling  very  brightly  under  a  tremendous 
frown. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this,  I  should 
like  to  know  ?  How  dare  you  kiss  me,  Willy 
Jaquith?" 

"  Old  friends  to  love ! "  said  Jocko,  open- 
ing one  yellow  eye,  and  ruffling  his  feathers 
knowingly. 

"  Jocko  knows  how  I  dare ! "  said  Will 
Jaquith.  "  Dear  old  friend,  I  will  tell  you 
what  it  means.  It  means  that  I  have  brought 
you  another  Golden  Lily  in  place  of  the  one 
you  said  I  spoiled.  You  can  only  have  her  to 
look  at,  though,  for  she  is  mine,  mine  and  my 
mother's,  and  we  cannot  give  her  up,  even  to 
you." 


200  MBS.    TREE 

"  I  didn't  exactly  break  my  promise,  Lily ! " 
cried  the  old  lady ;  her  hands  trembled  on 
her  stick,  but  her  cap  was  erect,  immovable. 
"  I  didn't  tell  him,  but  I  never  promised  not  to 
tell  James  Stedman,  you  know  I  never  did." 

The  lovely,  dark-eyed  girl  bent  over  her  and 
kissed  the  withered  cheek  again. 

"My  dear!  my  naughty,  wicked,  delightful 
dear,"  she  murmured,  "  how  shall  I  ever  forgive 
you  —  or  thank  you  ? " 


CHAPTEE   XIII. 

LIFE   IN   DEATH 

"  Drive  to  Miss  Dane's ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

"  Drive  where  ? "  asked  old  Anthony,  pausing 
with  one  foot  on  the  step  of  the  ancient  carryall. 

"  To  Miss  Dane's  ! " 

"  Well,  I  snum  ! "  said  old  Anthony. 

The  Dane  Mansion,  as  it  was  called,  stood 

on  the  outskirts  of  the  village ;  a  gaunt,  gray 

house,  standing  well  back  from  the  road,  with 

dark  hedges  of  Norway  spruce  drawn  about  it 

like  a  funeral   scarf.      The  panelled   wooden 

shutters    of    the    front    windows    were    never 

opened,  and  a  stranger  passing  by  would  have 

thought  the  house  uninhabited ;  but  all  Elmer- 
201 


202  MBS.    TREE 

ton  knew  that  behind  those  darkling  hedges 
and  close  shutters,  somewhere  in  the  depths 
of  the  tall  many-chimneyed  house,  lived  —  "  if 
you  can  call  it  living  ! "  Mrs.  Tree  said  —  Miss 
Virginia  Dane.  Miss  Dane  was  a  contem- 
porary of  Mrs.  Tree's,  —  indeed,  report  would 
have  her  some  years  older,  —  but  she  had  no 
other  point  of  resemblance  to  that  lively 
potentate.  She  never  left  her  house.  None 
of  the  present  generation  of  Elmertonians  had 
ever  seen  her  face ;  and  to  the  rising  generation, 
the  boys  and  girls  who  passed  the  outer  hedge, 
if  dusk  were  coming  on,  with  hurried  step  and 
quick  affrighted  glances,  she  was  a  kind  of 
spectre,  a  living  phantom  of  the  past,  probably 
terrible  to  look  upon,  certainly  dreadful  to 
think  of.  These  terrors  were  heightened  by 
the  knowledge,  diffused  one  hardly  knew  how, 
that  Miss  Dane  was  a  spiritualist,  and  that 
in  her  belief  at  least,  the  silent  house  was 
peopled   with    departed    Danes,   the    brothers 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  203 

and  sisters  of  whom  she  was  the  last  remain- 
ing one. 

Things  being  thus,  it  was  perhaps  not  strange 
that  old  Anthony,  usually  the  most  discreet 
of  choremen,  was  driven  by  surprise  to  the 
extent  of  "  snumming "  by  the  order  he  re- 
ceived. He  allowed  himself  no  further  com- 
ment, however,  but  flecked  the  fat  brown 
horse  on  the  ear  with  his  whip,  and  said  "  Gitty 
up ! "  with  more  interest  than  he  usually 
manifested. 

Mrs.  Tree  was  arrayed  in  her  India  shawl, 
and  crowned  with  the  bird-of-paradise  bonnet, 
from  which  swept  an  ample  veil  of  black  lace. 
She  sat  bolt  upright  in  the  carriage,  her  stick 
firmly  planted  in  front  of  her,  her  hands  crossed 
on  its  crutch  handle,  and  her  whole  air  was 
one  of  uncompromising  energy. 

"  Shall  I  knock  ? "  said  Anthony,  glancing 
up  at  the  blind  house-front  with  an  expression 
which  said  plainly  enough  "  It  won't  be  any  use.' 


204  MBS.    TREE 

"  No,  I'm  going  to  get  out.  Here,  help  me  ! 
the  other  side,  ninny  hammer !  You  have 
helped  me  out  on  the  wrong  side  for  forty 
years,  Anthony  Barker ;  I  must  he  a  saint 
after  all,  or  I  never  should  have  stood  it." 

The  old  lady  mounted  the  granite  steps 
briskly,  and  knocked  smartly  on  the  door  with 
the  top  of  her  stick.  After  some  delay  it 
was  opened  by  a  grim-looking  elderly  woman 
with  a  forbidding  squint. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Keziah  ?  I  am  coming 
in.     You  may  wait  for  me,  Anthony." 

"  I  don't  know  as  Miss  Dane  feels  up  to  seein' 
company,  Mis'  Tree,"  said  the  grim  woman, 
doubtfully,  holding  the   door  in  her  hand. 

"  Folderol ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  waving  her  aside 
with  her  stick.  "  She's  in  her  sitting-room,  I 
suppose.  To  be  sure  !  How  are  you,  Vir- 
ginia ? " 

The  room  Mrs.  Tree  entered  was  gaunt  and 
gray  like  the  house  itself ;  high-studded,  with 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  205 

blank  walls  of  gray  paint,  and  wintry  gleams 
of  marble  on  chimneypiece  and  furniture. 
Gaunt  and  gray,  too,  was  the  figure  seated 
in  the  rigid  high-backed  chair,  a  tall  old 
woman  in  a  black  gown  and  a  close  muslin 
cap  like  that  worn  by  the  Shakers,  with  a 
black  ribbon  bound  round  her  forehead.  Her 
high  features  showed  where  great  beauty,  of  a 
masterful  kind,  had  once  dwelt ;  her  sunken 
eyes  were  cold  and  dim  as  a  steel  mirror  that 
has  lain  long  buried  and  has  forgotten  how 
to  give  back  the  light 

These  eyes  now  dwelt  upon  Mrs.  Tree,  with 
recognition,  but  no  warmth  or  kindliness  in 
their  depths. 

"  How  are  you,  Virginia  ? "  repeated  the 
visitor.  "  Come,  shake  hands  !  you  are  alive, 
you  know,  after  a  fashion ;  where's  the  use  of 
pretending  you  are  not  ? " 

Miss  Dane  extended  a  long,  cold,  transparent 
hand,  and  then  motioned  to  a  seat. 


206  MRS.    TBEE 

"  I  am  well,  Marcia,"  she  said,  coldly.  "  I 
have  been  well  for  the  past  fifteen  years,  since 
we  last  met." 

"I  made  the  last  visit,  I  remember,"  said 
Mrs.  Tree,  composedly,  hooking  a  gray  horse- 
hair footstool  toward  her  with  her  stick,  and 
settling  her  feet  on  it.  "You  gave  me  to 
understand  then  that  I  need  not  come  again 
till  I  had  something  special  to  say,  so  I  have 
stayed  away." 

"  I  have  no  desire  for  visitors,"  said  Miss 
Dane.  She  spoke  in  a  hollow,  inward  mono- 
tone, which  somehow  gave  the  impression  that 
she  was  in  the  habit  of  talking  to  herself,  or 
to  something  that  made  no  response.  "My 
soul  is  fit  company  for  me." 

"I  should  think  it  might  be!"  said  Mrs. 
Tree. 

"  Besides,  I  am  surrounded  by  the  Blessed," 
Miss  Dane  went  on.  "  This  room  probably 
appears  bare  and  gloomy  to  your  eyes,  Marcia, 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  207 

but  I  see  it  peopled  by  the  Blessed,  in  troops, 
crowding  about  me,  robed  and  crowned." 

"  I  hope  they  enjoy  themselves,"  said  Mrs. 
Tree.  "  I  will  not  interrupt  you  or  them  more 
than  a  few  minutes,  Virginia.  I  want  to  ask 
if  you  have  made  your  will.  A  singular  ques- 
tion, but  I  have  my  reasons  for  asking." 

"  Certainly  I  have ;  years  ago." 

"Have  you  left  anything  to  Mary  Jaquith 
—  Mary  Ashton  ? " 

"  No  ! "  A  spark  crept  into  the  dim  gray  eyes. 

"  So  I  supposed.  Did  you  know  that  she 
was  poor,  and  blind  ? " 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  I  did  not  know  that  she  was  blind,"  Miss 
Dane  said,  presently.  "For  her  poverty,  she 
has  herself  to  thank." 

"  Yes !  she  married  the  man  she  loved.  It 
was  a  crime,  I  suppose.  You  would  have  had 
her  live  on  here  with  you  all  her  days,  and 
turn  to  stone  slowly." 


208  MBS.    TREE 

"  I  brought  Mary  Ashton  up  as  my  own 
child,"  Miss  Dane  went  on ;  and  there  was  an 
echo  of  some  past  emotion  in  her  deathly 
voice.  "  She  chose  to  follow  her  own  way,  in 
defiance  of  my  wishes,  of  my  judgment.  She 
sowed  the  wind,  and  she  has  reaped  the  whirl- 
wind. We  are  as  far  apart  as  the  dead  and 
the  living." 

"  Just  about !  "  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  Now, 
Virginia  Dane,  listen  to  me  !  I  have  come 
here  to  make  a  proposal,  and  when  I  have 
made  it  I  shall  go  away,  and  that  is  the  last 
you  will  see  of  me  in  this  world,  or  most 
likely  in  the  next.  Mary  Ashton  married  a 
scamp,  as  other  women  have  done  and  will  do 
to  the  end  of  the  chapter.  She  paid  for  her 
mistake,  poor  child,  and  no  one  has  ever  heard 
a  word  of  complaint  or  repining  from  her. 
She  got  along  —  somehow ;  and  now  her  boy, 
Will,  has  come  home,  and  means  to  be  a  good 
son,  and  will  be  one,  too,  and  see  her  com- 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  209 

fortable  the  rest  of  her  days.  But  —  Will 
wants  to  marry.  He  is  engaged  to  Andrew 
Bent's  daughter,  a  sweet,  pretty  girl,  born  and 
grown  up  while  you  have  been  sitting  here  in 
your  coffin,  Virginia  Dane.  Now  —  they  won't 
take  any  more  help  from  me,  and  I  like  'em 
for  it ;  and  yet  I  want  them  to  have  more  to 
do  with.  Will  is  clerk  in  the  post-office,  and 
his  salary  would  give  the  three  of  them  skim 
milk  and  red  herrings,  but  not  much  more.  I 
want  you  to  leave  them  some  money,  Virginia." 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  the  two 
pairs  of  eyes,  the  dim  gray  and  the  fiery  black, 
looked  into  each  other. 

"  This  is  a  singular  request,  Marcia,"  said 
Miss  Dane,  at  last.  "  I  believe  I  have  never 
offered  you  advice  as  to  the  bestowal  of  your 
property;  nor,  if  I  remember  aright,  is  Mary 
Ashton  related  to  you  in  any  way." 

"Cat's  foot!"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  shortly. 
"Don't    mount    your    high    horse    with    me, 


210  MBS.    TREE 

Jinny,  because  it  won't  do  any  good.  I  don't 
know  or  care  anything  about  your  property ; 
you  may  leave  it  to  the  cat  for  aught  I  care. 
What  I  want  is  to  give  you  some  of  mine  to 
leave  to  William  Jaquith,  in  case  you  die  first." 

She  then  made  a  definite  proposal,  to  which 
Miss  Dane  listened  with  severe  attention. 

"  And  suppose  you  die  first,"  said  the  latter. 
"What  then?" 

"Oh,  my  will  is  all  right,  I  have  left  him 
money  enough.  But  there's  no  more  prospect 
of  my  dying  than  there  was  twenty  years  ago. 
I  shall  live  to  be  a  hundred." 

"  I  also  come  of  a  long-lived  family,"  said 
Miss  Dane. 

"I  thought  the  Blessed  might  get  tired  of 
waiting,  and  come  and  fetch  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Tree,  dryly ;  "  besides,  you  haven't  so  far  to  go 
as  I  have.  Seriously,  one  of  us  must  in 
common  decency  go  before  long,  Virginia; 
it  is  hardly  respectable  for  both  of  us  to  linger 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  211 

in  this  way.  Now,  if  you  will  only  listen  to 
reason,  when  the  time  does  come  for  either  of 
us,  Willy  Jaquith  is  sure  of  comfort  for  the 
rest  of  his  days.     What  do  you  say  ? " 

Miss  Dane  was  silent  for  some  time. 
Finally : 

"I  will  consider  the  matter,"  she  said, 
coldly.  "  I  cannot  answer  you  at  this  moment, 
Marcia.  You  have  broken  in  upon  the  current 
of  my  thoughts,  and  disturbed  the  peace  of  my 
soul.  I  will  communicate  with  you  by  writing, 
when  my  decision  is  reached ;  no  second  inter- 
view will  be  necessary." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Tree, 
rising.  "  I  wasn't  intending  to  come  again. 
You  knew  that  Phoebe  Blyth  was  dead  ? " 

"  I  knew  that  Phoebe  had  passed  out  of  this 
sphere,"  replied  Miss  Dane.  "  Keziah  learned 
it  from  the  purveyor." 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  then  added, 
"Phoebe  was  with  me  last  night." 


212  MBS.    TREE 

"  Was  she  ? "  said  Mrs.  Tree,  grimly.  "  I'm 
sorry  to  hear  it.  Phoebe  was  a  good  woman, 
if  she  did  have  her  faults." 

"  You  may  be  glad  to  hear  that  she  is  in 
a  blessed  state  at  present,"  the  cold  monotone 
went  on.  "  She  came  with  my  sisters  Sophia 
and  Persis ;  Timothea  was  also  with  them,  and 
inquired  for  you." 

«  H'm ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  rouse  your  animosity, 
Marcia,"  continued  Miss  Dane,  after  another 
pause,  "and  I  am  well  aware  of  your  condi- 
tion of  hardened  unbelief;  but  we  are  not 
likely  to  meet  again  in  this  sphere,  and  since 
you  have  sought  me  out  in  my  retirement,  I 
feel  bound  to  tell  you,  that  I  have  received 
several  visits  of  late  from  your  husband,  and 
that  he  is  more  than  ever  concerned  about 
your  spiritual  welfare.  If  you  wish  it,  I  will 
repeat  to  you  what  he  said." 

The   years  fell    away   from  Marcia   Darra- 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  213 

cott  like  a  cloak.  She  made  two  quick  steps 
forward,  her  little  hands  clenched,  her  tiny 
figure  towering  like  a  flame. 

"  You  dare  —  "  she  said,  then  stopped 
abruptly.  The  blaze  died  down,  and  the 
twinkle  came  instead  into  her  bright  eyes. 
She  laughed  her  little  rustling  laugh,  and 
turned  to  go.  "Good-by,  Jinny,"  she  said; 
"you  don't  mean  to  be  funny,  but  you  are. 
Ethan  Tree  is  in  heaven ;  but  if  you  think  he 
would  come  back  from  the  pit  to  see  you  — 
te  hee  !     Good-by,  Jinny  Dane ! " 

Mrs.  Tree  sat  bolt  upright  again  all  the  way 
home,  and  chuckled  several  times. 

"  Now,  that  woman's  jealousy  is  such,"  she 
said,  aloud,  "  that,  rather  than  have  me  do  for 
her  niece,  she'll  leave  her  half  her  fortune  and 
die  next  week,  just  to  spite  me."  (In  point 
of  fact,  this  prophecy  came  almost  literally  to 
pass,  not  a  week,  but  a  month  later.) 

"Yes,    Anthony,     a     very     pleasant     call, 


214  MB  8.    TREE 

thank  ye.  Help  rae  out;  the  other  side,  old 
step-and-fetch-it !  I  believe  you  were  a  hun- 
dred years  old  when  I  was  born.  Yes,  that's 
all.  Direxia  Hawkes,  give  him  a  cup  of 
coffee;  he's  got  chilled  waiting  in  the  cold. 
No,  I'm  warm  enough;  I  had  something  to 
warm  me." 

In  spite  of  this  last  declaration,  when  little 
Mrs.  Bliss  came  in  half  an  hour  later  to  see 
the  old  lady,  she  found  her  with  her  feet  on 
the  fender,  sipping  hot  mulled  wine,  and  de- 
claring that  the  marrow  was  frozen  in  her 
bones. 

"  I  have  been  sitting  in  a  tomb,"  she  said, 
in  answer  to  the  visitor's  alarmed  inquiries, 
"talking  to  a  corpse.  Did  you  ever  see 
Virginia  Dane  ? " 

Mrs.  Bliss  opened  her  blue  eyes  wide.  "  Oh, 
no,  Mrs.  Tree.  I  didn't  know  that  any  one 
ever  saw  Miss  Dane.     I  thought  she  was  —  " 

"  She   is    dead,"   said  Mrs.   Tree.     "  I  have 


LIFE  IN  DEATH  215 

been  talking  with  her  corpse,  I  tell  yon, 
and  I  don't  like  corpses.  You  are  alive  and 
warm,  and  I  like  you.  Tell  me  some 
scandal." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Tree  ! " 

"Well,  tell  me  about  the  baby,  then.  I 
suppose  there's  no  harm  in  my  asking  that.  If 
I  live  much  longer,  I  sha'n't  be  allowed  to  talk 
about  anything  except  gruel  and  nightcaps. 
How's  the  baby?" 

"  Oh,  he  is  so  well,  Mrs.  Tree,  and  such  a 
darling !  He  looks  like  a  perfect  beauty  in 
that  lovely  cloak.  I  must  bring  him  round 
in  it  to  show  to  you.  It  is  the  handsomest 
thing  I  ever  saw,  and  it  didn't  look  a  bit 
yellow  after  it  was  pressed." 

"  I  got  it  in  Canton,"  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  My 
baby  —  I  never  had  but  one  —  was  born  in 
the  China  seas.     Here's  her  coral." 

She  motioned  toward  her  lap,  and  Mrs. 
Bliss  saw  that  a  small  chest  of  carved  sandal- 


216  MBS.    TREE 

wood  lay  open  on  her  knees,  full  of  trinkets 
and  odds  and  ends. 

"It  is  very  pretty,"  said  little  Mrs.  Bliss, 
lifting  the  coral  and  bells  reverently. 

"Her  name  was  Lucy,"  said  Mrs.  Tree. 
"  She  married  Arthur  Blyth,  cousin  to  the  girls, 
and  died  when  little  Arthur  was  born.  You 
may  have-  that  for  your  baby ;  I'm  keeping 
Arthur's  for  little  Vesta's  child.  If  you  thank 
me,  you  sha'n't  have  it." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

TOMMY  CANDY,  AND  THE  LETTER  HE  BROUGHT 

"  How  do  you  do,  Thomas  Candy  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Tree. 

"How-do-you-do-Missis-Tree-I'm-pretty-well- 
thank-you-and-hope-you-are-the-same ! "  replied 
Tommy  Candy,  in  one  breath. 

"  Humph !  you  shake  hands  better  than  you 
did ;  but  remember  to  press  with  the  palm, 
not  pinch  with  the  fingers!  Now,  what  do 
you  want?" 

"  I  brung  you  a  letter,"  said  Tommy  Candy. 
"I  was  goin'  by  the  post-office,  and  Mr.  Ja- 
quith  hollered  to  me  and  said  bring  it  to  you, 
and  so  I  brung  it." 

"  I  thank  you,  Thomas,"  said  the  old  lady, 
taking  the  letter  and  laying  it  down  without 

217 


218  MBS.    TBEE 

looking  at  it.  "  Sit  down !  There  are  burnt 
almonds  in  the  ivory  box.  Humph !  I  hear 
very  bad  accounts  of  you,  Tommy  Candy." 

Tommy  looked  up  from  an  ardent  considera- 
tion of  the  relative  size  of  the  burnt  almonds ; 
his  face  was  that  of  a  freckled  cherub  who 
knew  not  sin. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  Isaac  Weight  and 
Timpson  Boody,  the  sexton  ?  I  hear  you  were 
at  the  bottom  of  the  affair." 

The  freckled  cherub  vanished;  instead  ap- 
peared an  imp,  with  a  complex  and  illuminat- 
ing grin  pervading  even  the  roots  of  his  hair. 

"  Ho  !  "  he  chuckled.  "  I  tell  ye,  Mis'  Tree, 
I  had  a  time !  I  tell  ye  I  got  even  with  old 
Booby  and  Squashnose  Weight,  too,  that  time. 
Ho  !  ha  !     Yes'm,  I  did." 

"You  are  an  extremely  naughty  boy!" 
said  Mrs.  Tree,  severely.  "  Sit  there  —  don't 
wriggle  in  your  cheer;  you  are  not  an  eel, 
though  I  admit  you  are  the  next  thing  to  it 


TOMMY  CANDY  219 

—  and  tell  me  every  word  about  it,  do  you 
hear?" 

"  Every  word  ?  "  echoed  Tommy  Candy. 

"Every  word." 

Their  eyes  met ;  and,  if  twinkle  met  twinkle, 
still  her  brows  were  severe,  and  her  cap  simply 
awful.  Tommy  Candy  chuckled  again.  "  I 
tell  ye  ! "  he  said. 

He  reflected  a  moment,  nibbling  an  almond 
absently,  then  leaned  forward,  and,  clasping 
his  hands  over  both  knees,  began  his  tale. 

"  Old  Booby's  ben  pickin'  on  me  ever  sence 
I  can  remember.  I  don't  git  no  comfort  goin' 
to  meetin',  he  picks  on  me  so.  Ever  anybody 
sneezes,  or  drops  a  hymn-book,  or  throws  a 
lozenger,  he  lays  it  to  me,  and  he  ketches  me 
after  meetin'  and  pulls  my  ears.  Last  Sunday 
he  took  away  every  lozenger  I  had,  five  cents' 
wuth,  jest  because  I  stuck  one  on  Doctor 
Pottle's  co't  in  the  pew  front  of  our'n.  So  then 
I  swowed  I'd  have  revenge,  like  that  feller 


220  MBS.    TREE 

in  the  poetry-book  you  lent  me.  So  next  day 
after  school  I  seed  him  —  well,  saw  him  — 
come  along  with  his  glass-settin'  tools,  and  go 
to  work  settin'  some  glass  in  one  of  the 
meetin' -  house  winders.  Some  o'  them  little 
small  panes  got  broke  somehow  —  yes'm,  I 
did,  but  I  never  meant  to,  honest  I  didn't.  I 
was  jest  tryin'  my  new  catapult,  and  I  never 
thought  they'd  have  such  measly  glass  as  all 
that.  Well,  so  I  see  —  saw  him  get  to  work, 
and  I  says  to  Squashnose  Weight  —  we  was 
goin'  home  from  school  together  —  I  says, 
'  Let's  go  up  in  the  gallery  ! '  Old  Booby  had 
left  the  door  open,  and  'twas  right  under  the 
gallery  that  he  was  to  work.  So  we  went  up ; 
and  I  had  my  pocket  full  of  split  peas  —  no'm, 
I  didn't  have  my  bean-blower  along ;  I'd  known 
better  than  to  take  it  into  the  meetin'-house, 
anyway ;  and  we  slipped  in  behind  old  Booby's 
back  and  got  up  into  the  gallery,  and  I  slid  the 
winder  up  easy,  and  we  commenced  droppin' 


TOMMY  CANDY  221 

peas  down  on  his  head.  He's  bald  as  a  bed- 
post, you  know,  and  to  see  them  peas  hop  up 
and  roll  off — I  tell  ye,  'twas  sport!  Old 
Booby  didn't  know  what  in  thunder  was  the 
matter  at  first.  First  two  or  three  he  jest 
kind  o'  shooed  with  his  hand  —  thought  it 
was  hossnies,  mebbe,  or  June  -  bugs ;  but  we 
went  on  droppin'  of  'em,  and  they  hopped  and 
skipped  off  his  head  like  bullets,  and  bumby 
he  see  one  on  the  ground.  He  picked  it  up 
and  looked  it  all  over,  and  then  he  looked  up. 
You  know  how  he  opens  his  mouth  and  sort  o' 
squinnies  up  his  eyes  ?  Mis'  Tree,  I  couldn't 
help  it,  no  way  in  the  world ;  I  jest  dropped 
a  handful  of  peas  right  down  into  his  mouth. 
'Twa'n't  no  great  of  a  shot,  for  he  opened  the 
spread  of  a  quart  dipper;  but  Squashnose  he 
sung  out '  Gee  whittakers  ! '  and  raised  up  his 
head,  and  old  Booby  saw  him.  Well,  the  way 
he  dropped  his  tools  and  put  for  the  door  was 
a  caution.     We  thought  we  could  get  down 


222  MBS.    TREE 

before  he  reached  the  gallery  stairs,  but  I 
caught  my  pants  on  a  nail,  and  Squashnose 
got  his  foot  wedged  in  between  two  benches, 
and,  by  the  time  we  got  loose,  we  heard  old 
Booby  comin'  poundin'  up  the  stairs  like  all 
possessed.  There  wa'n't  nothin'  to  do  then 
but  cut  and  run  up  the  belfry  ladder.  We 
slipped  off  our  shoes  and  stockin's,  and  thought 
mebbe  we  could  get  up  without  him  hearin' 
us,  but  he  did  hear,  and  up  he  come  full 
chisel,  puffin'  and  cussin'  like  all  creation. 

"We  waited  —  there  wa'n't  nothin'  else  to 
do;  and  I  meant  —  I  reely  did,  Mis'  Tree  — 
to  own  up  and  say  I  was  sorry  and  take  my 
lickin' ;  but  that  Squashnose  Weight  —  he 
makes  me  tired !  —  the  minute  he  see  old 
Booby's  bald  head  comin'  up  the  ladder,  he 
hollers  out,  '  Tommy  Candy  did  it,  Mr. 
Boody !  Tommy  Candy  did  it ;  he's  got  his 
pocket  full  of  'em  now.     I  see  him ! ' 

"  Well,  you  bet  I  was  mad  then  !     I  got  holt 


TOMMY  CANDY  223 

of  him  and  give  his  head  one  good  ram  against 
the  wall ;  and  then  when  old  Booby  stepped 
up  into  the  loft,  I  dropped  down  on  all  fours 
and  run  between  his  legs*  and  upset  him  onto 
Squashnose,  and  clum  down  the  ladder  and 
run  home.  That  was  every  livin'  thing  I  done, 
Mis'  Tree,  honest  it  was ;  and  they  blame  it  all 
on  me,  the  lickin'  Squashnose  got,  and  all.  I 
give  him  a  good  one,  too,  next  day.  I  druther 
be  me  than  him,  anyway." 

"Humph!"  said  Mrs.  Tree.  She  did  not 
look  at  Tommy,  but  held  the  Chinese  screen 
before  her  face.  "  Did  —  did  your  father  whip 
you  well,  Tommy  ? " 

"Yes'm,  he  did  so,  the  best  lickin'  I  had 
this  year ;  I  dono  but  the  best  I  ever  had,  but 
'twas  wuth  it ! " 

When  Master  Candy  left  Mrs.  Tree  he  had 
a  neat  and  concise  little  lecture  passing 
through  his  head,  on  its  way  from  one  ear 
to  the  other,  and  in  his  pocket  an  assortment 


224  MRS.    TREE 

of  squares  of  fig-paste,  red  and  white.  The 
red,  as  Mrs.  Tree  pointed  out  to  him,  had 
nuts  in  them. 

Left  alone,  the  old  lady  put  down  the 
screen,  and  let  the  twinkle  have  its  own  way. 
She  shook  her  head  two  or  three  times  at  the 
fire,  and  laughed  a  little  rustling  laugh. 

"  Solomon  Candy  !  Solomon  Candy  ! "  she 
said.     "A  chip  of  the  old  Mock!" 

Then  she  took  up  her  letter. 

Half  an  hour  later  Miss  Vesta,  coming  in 
for  her  daily  visit  (for  Miss  Phoebe's  death 
had  brought  the  aunt  and  niece  even  nearer 
together  than  they  were  before),  found  her 
aunt  in  a  state  of  high  indignation.  She  be- 
gan to  speak  the  moment  Miss  Vesta  entered 
the  room. 

"Vesta,  don't  say  a  word  to  me!  do  you 
hear  ?  not  a  single  word !  I  will  not  put  up 
with  it  for  an  instant;  understand  that  once 
and  for  all!" 


TOMMY  CANDY  225 

"  Dear  Aunt  Marcia,"  said  Miss  Vesta, 
mildly,  "  I  may  say  good  morning,  surely  ? 
What  has  put  you  about  to-day  ? " 

"I  have  had  a  letter.  The  impudence  of 
the  woman,  writing  to  me !  Now,  Vesta, 
don't  look  at  me  in  that  way,  for  you  have 
some  sense,  if  not  much,  and  you  know 
perfectly  well  it  was  impudent.  Folderol! 
don't  tell  me !  her  dear  aunt,  indeed  !  I'll 
dear-aunt  her,  if  she  tries  to  set  foot  in  this 
house." 

Miss  Vesta's  puzzled  brow  cleared.  "  Oh," 
she  said,  "  I  see,  Aunt  Marcia.  You  also  have 
had  a  letter  from  Maria." 

"  Eead  it ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree.  « I'd  take  it  up 
with  the  tongs,  if  I  were  you." 

Miss  Vesta  did  not  think  it  necessary  to 
obey  this  injunction,  but  unfolded  the  square 
of  scented  paper  which  her  aunt  indicated, 
and  read  as  follows: 


226  MRS.    TREE 

"  My  dear  Aunt  :  —  I  was  much  grieved  to  hear 
of  poor  Phoebe's  death.  It  seems  very  strange  that 
I  was  not  informed  of  her  illness ;  being  her  own 
first  cousin,  it  would  have  been  natural  and  gratify- 
ing for  me  to  have  shared  the  last  sad  hours  with 
you  and  Vesta  ;  but  malice  is  no  part  of  my  nature, 
and  I  am  quite  ready  to  overlook  the  neglect.  You 
and  Vesta  must  miss  Phoebe  sadly,  and  be  very 
lonely,  and  I  feel  it  a  duty  that  I  must  not  shirk  to 
come  and  show  you  both  that  to  me,  at  least,  blood  is 
thicker  than  water.  One  drop  of  Darracott  blood,  I 
always  say,  is  enough  to  establish  a  claim  on  me. 
It  is  a  long  time  since  I  have  been  in  Elmerton,  and  I 
should  like  above  all  things  to  bring  my  two  sweet 
girls,  to  show  them  their  mother's  early  home,  and 
present  them  to  their  venerable  relation.  I  think 
you  would  find  them  not  inferior,  to  say  the  least, 
to  some  others  who  have  been  more  put  forward  to 
catch  the  eye.  A  violet  by  a  mossy  stone  has  always 
been  my  idea  of  a  young  woman.  However,  my 
daughters'  engagements  are  so  numerous,  and  they 
are  so  much  sought  after,  that  it  will  be  impossible  for 
me  to  bring  them  at  present ;  later  I  shall  hope  to  do 
so.  I  propose  to  divide  my  visit  impartially  between 
you  and  poor  Vesta,  but  shall  go  to  her  first,  being 
the  one  in  affliction,  since  such  we  are  bidden  to  visit, 


TOMMY  CANDY  227 

"  Looking  forward  with  great  pleasure  to  my  visit 
with  you,   and  hoping  that  this  may  find  you  in 
the  enjoyment  of  such  a  measure  of  health  as  your 
advanced  years  may  allow,  I  am,  my  dear  Aunt, 
"  Your  affectionate  niece, 

"Maria  Darracott  Pryor." 

"  When  you  have  finished  it,  you  may  put  it 
into  the  fire,"  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  Bah  !  what  did 
she  say  to  you  ?   Cat !  I  don't  mean  you,  Vesta." 

But  Miss  Vesta,  with  all  her  dove-like 
qualities,  had  something  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
serpent,  and  had  no  idea  of  repeating  what 
Mrs.  Pryor  had  said  to  her.  Several  phrases 
rose  to  her  mind,  — "  Aunt  Marcia's  few  re- 
maining days  on  earth,"  "precarious  spiritual 
condition  of  which  reports  have  reached  me," 
"  spontaneous  distribution  of  family  property," 
etc.,  —  and  she  rejoiced  in  being  able  to  say 
calmly,  "I  did  not  bring  the  letter  with  me, 
Aunt  Marcia.  Maria  speaks  of  her  intended 
visit,  and  seems  to  look  forward  with  much 
pleasure  to  —  " 


228  MBS.    TBEE 

"  Vesta  Bly  th,"  said  Mrs.  Tree,  "  look  me  in 
the  eye!" 

"Yes,  dear  Aunt  Marcia,"  said  the  little 
lady.  Her  soft  brown  eyes  met  fearlessly 
the  black  sparks  which  gleamed  from  under 
Mrs.  Tree's  eyebrows.  She  smiled,  and  laid  her 
hand  gently  on  that  of  the  elder  woman. 

"  There  is  no  earthly  use  in  your  smiling  at 
me,  Vesta,"  the  old  lady  went  on.  "  I  see 
nothing  whatever  to  smile  about.  I  wish 
simply  to  say,  as  I  have  said  before,  that  after 
I  am  dead  you  may  do  as  you  please ;  but  I 
am  not  dead  yet,  and  while  I  live,  Maria 
Darracott  sets  no  foot  in  this  house." 

"  Dear  Aunt  Marcia  ! " 

"No  foot  in  this  house!"  repeated  Mrs. 
Tree.  "Not  the  point  of  her  toe,  if  she 
had  a  point.  She  was  born  splay-footed,  and 
I  suppose  she'll  die  so.  Not  the  point  of  her 
toe ! " 

Miss  Vesta  was  silent  for  a  moment.    If  she 


TOMMY  CANDY  229 

were  only  like  Phoebe !  She  must  try  her 
best  to  do  as  Phoebe  would  have  wished. 

"  Aunt  Marcia,"  she  said,  "  you  have  always 
been  so  near  and  dear  —  so  very  near  and  so 
infinitely  dear  and  kind,  to  us,  —  especially  to 
Nathaniel  and  me,  and  to  Nathaniel's  children, 
—  that  I  fear  you  sometimes  forget  the  fact 
that  Maria  is  precisely  the  same  relation  to 
you  that  we  are." 

"  Cat's  foot,  fiddlestick,  folderol,  fudge ! "  re- 
marked Mrs.  Tree,  blandly. 

"  Dear  Aunt  Marcia,  do  not  speak  so,  I  beg 
of  you.  Only  think,  Uncle  James,  Maria's 
father,  was  your  own  brother." 

"  His  wife  wasn't  my  own  sister  !  "  said  Mrs. 
Tree,  grimly.  Then  she  blazed  out  suddenly. 
"  Vesta  Blyth,  you  are  a  good  girl,  and  I  am 
very  fond  of  you  ;  but  I  know  what  I  am  about, 
and  I  behave  as  I  intend  to  behave.  My 
brother  James  was  a  good  man,  though  I  never 
could  understand  the   ground  he  took  about 


230  MBS.    TREE 

the  Copleys.  He  had  no  more  right  to  them 
—  but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there.  His 
wife  was  a  cat,  and  her  mother  before  her  was 
a  cat,  and  her  daughter  after  her  is  a  cat.  I 
don't  like  cats,  and  I  never  have  had  them  in 
this  house,  and  I  never  will.  That's  all  there 
is  to  it.  If  that  woman  comes  here,  I'll  set 
the  parrot  on  her." 

"  Scat ! "  said  the  parrot,  waking  from  a  doze 
and  ruffling  his  feathers.  "  Quousque  tandem, 
0  Catilina  ?     Yesta,  Vesta,  don't  you  pester  ! " 

Miss  Vesta  sighed.  "  Then  —  what  will  you 
say  to  Maria,  Aunt  Marcia  ? " 

"  I  sha'n't  say  anything  to  her  ! "  replied  the 
old  lady,  snappishly. 

"  Surely  you  must  answer  her  letter,  dear." 

"Must  I!  'Must  got  bust,'  they  used  to 
say  when  I  was  a  girl." 

"  Surely  you  will  answer  it  ? "  said  Miss 
Vesta,  altering  the  unlucky  form  of  words. 

"  Nothing   of  the  sort !     She   has  had  the 


TOMMY  CANDY  231 

impudence  to  write  to  me,  and  she  can  answer 
herself." 

"  She  cannot  very  well  do  that,  Aunt 
Mama." 

"  Then  she  can  go  without. 

«  <  Tiddy  hi,  toddy  ho, 
Tiddy  hi  hum, 
Thus  was  it  when  Barbara  Popkins  was  young! '" 

Miss  Vesta  sighed  again ;  it  was  always  a 
bad  sign  when  Mrs.  Tree  began  to  sing. 

"  Very  well,  Aunt  Marcia,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause,  rising.  "  I  will  answer  for  both,  then. 
I  will  say  that  — - " 

"  Say  that  I  am  blind,  deaf,  and  dumb ! " 
her  aunt  commanded.  "  Say  that  I  have  the 
mumps  and  the  chicken-pox,  and  am  recom- 
mended absolute  retirement.  Say  I  have  my 
sins  to  think  about,  and  have  no  time  for  any- 
thing else.  Say  anything  you  like,  Vesta,  but 
run  along  now,  like  a  good  girl,  arid  let  me  get 
smoothed   out  before  that  poor  little   parson 


232  MRS.    TREE 

comes  to  see  me.  He's  coming  at  five.  Last 
time  I  scared  him  out  of  a  year's  growth  — 
te-hee !  —  and  he  has  none  to  spare,  inside  or 
out.     Good-by,  my  dear." 


CHAPTEK   XV. 

MARIA 

"My  dearest  Vesta,  what  a  pleasure  to 
see  you  !  You  are  looking  wretched,  simply 
wretched  !    How  thankful  I  am  that  I  came  ! " 

Mrs.  Pryor  embraced  her  cousin  with  effu- 
sion. She  was  short  and  fair,  with  prominent 
eyes  and  teeth,  and  she  wore  a  dress  that 
crackled  and  ornaments  that  clinked.  Miss 
Vesta,  in  her  dove-colored  cashmere  and  white 
net,  seemed  to  melt  into  her  surroundings  and 
form  part  of  them,  but  Mrs.  Pryor  stood  out 
against  them  like  a  pump  against  an  evening  sky. 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you  to  come,  Maria," 
said  Miss  Vesta,  "very  kind  indeed.  I  trust 
you  had  a  comfortable  journey,  and  are  not 
too  tired." 

233 


234  MRS.    TREE 

■  "  My  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Pryor,  buoyantly,  "  I 
am  never  tired.  Watchspring  and  wire  —  Mr. 
Pryor  always  said  that  was  what  his  little 
Maria  was  made  of.  But  it  would  have  made 
no  difference  if  I  had  been  at  the  point  of 
exhaustion,  I  would  have  made  any  effort  to 
come  to  you.  Darracott  blood,  my  love  !  Any 
one  who  has  a  drop  of  Darracott  blood  in  his 
veins  can  call  upon  me  for  anything ;  how 
much  more  you,  who  are  my  own  first  cousin. 
Poor,  dear  Phoebe,  what  a  loss !  You  are  not 
in  black,  I  see.  Ah !  I  remember  her  peculiar 
views.  You  feel  bound  to  respect  them.  I 
consider  that  a  mistake,  Vesta.  We  must  re- 
spect, but  we  are  not  called  upon  to  imitate, 
the  eccentricities  —  " 

"  I  share  my  sister's  views,"  said  Miss  Vesta, 
tranquilly.  "Will  you  have  a  cup  of  tea  now, 
Maria,  or  would  you  like  to  go  to  your  room 
at  once  ? " 

"  Neither,  my  dear,  just  at  this   moment," 


MARIA  235 

said  Mrs.  Pryor,  vivaciously.  "I  must  just 
take  a  glance  around.  Dear  me !  how  many 
years  is  it  since  I  have  been  in  this  house  ? 
Had  Phoebe  aged  as  much  as  you  have,  Vesta  ? 
Single  women,  of  course,  always  age  faster,  — 
no  young  life  to  keep  them  girlish.  Ah !  you 
must  see  my  two  sweet  girls.  Angels,  Vesta ! 
and  Darracotts  to  their  finger-ends.  I  feel 
like  a  child  again,  positively  like  a  child.  The 
parlor  is  exactly  as  I  remember  it,  only  faded. 
Things  do  fade  so,  don't  they  ?  It's  a  mistake 
not  to  keep  your  furniture  fresh  and  up  to 
date.  I  should  re-cover  those  chairs,  if  I  were 
you;  nothing  would  be  easier.  A  few  yards 
of  something  bright  and  pretty,  a  few  brass- 
headed  nails  —  why,  I  could  do  it  in  a  couple 
of  hours.  We  must  see  what  we  can  do, 
Vesta.  And  it  is  a  pity,  it  seems  to  me,  to 
have  everything  so  bare,  tables  and  all.  Beau- 
tiful polish,  to  be  sure,  but  they  look  so  bleak. 
A  chenille  cover,  now,  here  and  there,  a  bright 


236  MBS.    TBEE 

drape  or  two,  would  transform  this  room ;  all 
this  old  red  damask  is  terribly  antiquated,  my 
dear.  It  comes  of  having  no  young  life  about 
you,  as  I  said.  My  girls  have  such  taste ! 
You  should  see  our  parlor  at  home  —  not  an 
inch  but  is  covered  with  something  bright  and 
aesthetic.  Ah!  here  are  the  portraits.  Yes, 
to  be  sure.  Do  you  know,  Vesta,  I  have  often 
thought  of  writing  to  you  and  Phoebe  —  in 
fact,  I  was  on  the  point  of  it  when  the  sad 
news  came  of  poor  Phoebe's  being  taken 
—  about  these  portraits  of  Grandfather  and 
Grandmother  Darracott.  Grandmother  Darra- 
cott  left  them  to  your  branch,  I  am  well 
aware  of  that ;  but  justice  is  justice,  and  I  do 
think  we  ought  to  have  one  of  them.  We 
have  just  as  much  Darracott  blood  in  our 
veins  as  you  have,  and  you  and  Phoebe  were 
always  Blyth  all  over,  while  the  Darracott 
nose  and  chin  show  so  strongly  in  me  and  my 
children.     You  have  no  children,  Vesta,  and  I 


MARIA  237 

always  think  it  is  the  future  generations  that 
should  be  considered.  We  are  passing  away, 
my  dear,  —  in  the  midst  of  life,  you  know,  and 
poor  Phoebe's  death  reminds  us  of  it,  I'm  sure, 
more  than  ever  —  you  don't  look  as  if  you 
had  more  than  a  year  or  two  before  you  your- 
self, Vesta,  —  but  —  well  —  and  so  —  I  con- 
fess it  seems  to  me  as  if  you  might  feel  more 
at  ease  in  your  mind  if  we  had  one  of  the  por- 
traits. Of  course  I  should  be  willing  to  pay 
something,  though  I  always  think  it  a  pity 
for  money  to  pass  between  blood  relations. 
What  do  you  say  ? " 

She  paused,  somewhat  out  of  breath,  and 
sat  creaking  and  clinking,  and  fanning  herself 
with  a  Chinese  hand-screen. 

Miss  Vesta  looked  up  at  the  portraits. 
Grandmother  Darracott  in  turban  and  shawl, 
Grandfather  Darracott  splendid  with  frill  and 
gold  seals,  looked  down  on  her  benignantly,  as 
they  had  always  looked.     They  had  been  part 


238  MBS.    TREE 

of  her  life,  these  kindly,  silent  figures.  She 
had  always  felt  sure  of  Grandmother  Darra- 
cott's  sympathy  and  understanding.  Some- 
times when,  as  a  child,  she  fancied  herself 
naughty  (but  she  never  was !),  she  would  ap- 
peal from  the  keen,  inquiring  gaze  of  Grand- 
father Darracott  to  those  soft  brown  eyes,  so 
like  her  own,  if  she  had  only  known  it ;  and 
the  brown  eyes  never  failed  to  comfort  and 
reassure  her. 

Part  with  one  of  those  pictures  ?  A  month 
ago  the  request  would  have  brought  her  dis- 
tress and  searchings  of  heart,  with  wonder 
whether  it  might  not  be  her  duty  to  do  so 
just  because  it  was  painful ;  but  Miss  Vesta 
was  changed.  It  was  as  if  Miss  Phoebe,  in 
passing,  had  let  the  shadow  of  her  mantle  fall 
on  her  younger  sister. 

"  I  cannot  consider  the  question,  Maria ! " 
she  said,  quietly.  "  My  dear  sister  would 
have  been   quite  unwilling  to    do    so,    I    am 


MARIA  239 

sure.  And  now,  as  I  have  duties  to  attend 
to,  shall  I  show  you  your  room  ? " 

Miss  Vesta  drifted  up  the  wide  staircase, 
and  Mrs.  Pry  or  stumped  and  creaked  behind  her. 

"  You  have  put  me  in  Phoebe's  room,  I  sup- 
pose," said  the  visitor,  as  they  reached  the 
landing.  "  So  near  you,  I  can  give  you 
any  attention  you  may  need  in  the  night. 
Besides,  the  sun  —  oh,  the  dimity  room ! 
Well,  I  dare  say  it  will  do  well  enough. 
Stuffy,  isn't  it  ?  but  I  am  the  easiest  person 
in  the  world  to  satisfy.  And  how  is  Aunt 
Marcia  ?  I  shall  go  to  see  her  the  first  thing 
in  the  morning ;  she  will  hardly  expect  me  to 
call  this  afternoon,  though  I  could  make  a 
special  effort  if  you  think  she  would  feel 
sensitive." 

"  Indeed,  Maria,  I  am  very  sorry,  but  I  don't 
feel  sure  —  in  fact,  I  rather  fear  that  you  may 
not  be  able  to  see  Aunt  Marcia,  at  all  events 
just  at  present." 


240  MRS.    TREE 

"  Not  be  able  to  see  her !  My  dear  Yesta, 
what  can  you  mean  ?  Why,  I  am  going  to 
stay  with  Aunt  Marcia.  I  wrote  to  her  as 
well  as  to  you,  and  said  that  I  should  divide 
my  visit  equally  between  you.  Of  course  I 
feel  all  that  I  owe  to  you,  my  love;  I  have 
made  all  my  arrangements  for  a  long  stay ; 
indeed,  it  happens  to  fit  in  very  well  with  my 
plans,  but  I  need  not  trouble  you  with  details 
now.  What  I  mean  to  say  is,  that  in  spite  of 
all  I  owe  to  you,  I  have  also  a  sacred  duty 
to  fulfil  toward  my  aunt.  It  is  impossible  in 
the  nature  of  things  that  she  should  live  much 
longer,  and  as  her  own  niece  and  the  mother 
of  a  family  I  am  bound,  solemnly  bound, 
to  soothe  and  cheer  a  few,  at  least,  of  her 
closing  days.  I  suppose  the  dear  old  thing 
feels  a  little  hurt  that  I  did  not  go  to  her  first, 
from  what  you  say  ;  old  people  are  very  tetchy, 
I  ought  to  have  remembered  that,  but  you 
were  the  one  in  affliction,  and  I  felt  bound  — 


MARIA  241 

but  I  will  make  that  all  right,  never  fear,  in 
the  morning.  There,  my  dear,  don't,  I  beg  of 
you,  give  yourself  the  slightest  uneasiness  about 
the  matter !  I  am  quite  able  to  take  care  of 
myself,  and  of  you  and  Aunt  Marcia  into  the 
bargain.  You  do  not  know  me,  my  dear ! 
Yes,  Diploma  can  bring  me  the  tea  now,  and 
I  will  unpack  and  set  things  to  rights  a  bit. 
You  will  not  mind  if  I  move  the  furniture 
about  a  little  ?  I  have  my  own  ideas,  and 
they  are  not  always  such  bad  ones.  Good-by, 
my  love !  Go  and  rest  now,  you  look  like 
a  ghost.  I  shall  have  to  take  you  in  hand 
at  once,  I  see;  so  fortunate  that  I  came. 
Good-by !" 

Miss  Vesta,  descending  the  stairs  with  a 
troubled  brow,  was  met  by  Diploma  with  the 
announcement  that  Doctor  Stedman  was  in 
the  parlor. 

"  Oh  ! "  Miss  Vesta  breathed  a  little  sigh 
of  pleasure  and  relief,  and  hastened  down. 


242  MRS.    TREE 

"  Good  afternoon,  James  !  I  am  rejoiced  to 
see  you.  I  —  something  perplexing  has  oc- 
curred ;  perhaps  you  may  be  able  to  advise  me. 
Sister  Phoebe  would  have  known  exactly  what 
to  do,  but  I  confess  I  am  puzzled.  Our  —  my 
cousin,  Mrs.  Pryor,  has  arrived  this  afternoon." 

"  Mrs.  Pryor  ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman.  "  Any 
one  I  ought  to  know  ?  " 

"Maria  Darracott.  Surely  you  remember 
her  ? " 

"  Hum !  yes,  I  remember  her.  She  hasn't 
come  here,  to  this  house  ? " 

"  Yes ;  she  is  up-stairs  now,  unpacking  her 
trunk.  She  has  come  to  make  a  long  stay,  it 
would  appear  from  the  size  of  the  trunk.  Of 
course  I  am  —  of  course  it  was  very  kind  in 
her  to  come,  and  I  shall  do  my  best  to  make 
her  stay  agreeable ;  but  —  James,  she  intends 
to  make  Aunt  Marcia  a  visit,  too,  and  Aunt 
Marcia  absolutely  refuses  to  see  her.  What 
shall  I  do?" 


MARIA  243 

Doctor  Stedman  chuckled.  "Do?  I  wish 
you  had  followed  your  aunt's  example;  but 
that  was  not  to  be  expected.  Hum !  I  don't 
see  that  you  can  do  anything.  Your  aunt  is 
not  amenable  to  the  bit,  not  even  the  slight- 
est snaffle ;  as  to  driving  her  with  a  curb,  I 
should  like  to  see  the  man  who  would  at- 
tempt it.  Won't  see  her,  eh  ?  ho  !  ho !  Mrs. 
Tree  is  the  one  consistent  woman  I  have  ever 
known." 

"  But  Maria  is  entirely  unconvinced,  James ; 
I  cannot  make  any  impression  upon  her.  She 
is  determined  to  go  to  see  Aunt  Marcia  to- 
morrow, and  I  fear  —  " 

"  Let  her  go !  she  is  of  age,  if  I  remember 
rightly ;  let  her  go  and  try  for  herself.  You 
are  not  responsible  for  what  occurs.  Vesta  — 
let  me  look  at  you  !  Hum  !  I  wish  you  would 
turn  this  visitor  out,  and  go  away  somewhere 
for  a  bit." 

"  Go  away,  James  ?     I  ? " 


244  MBS.    TREE 

"  Yes,  you !  You  are  not  looking  at  all  the 
thing,  I  tell  you.  It's  all  very  well  and  very 
—  everything  that  is  like  you  —  to  take  this 
trouble  simply  and  naturally,  but  whatever 
you  may  say  and  believe,  there  is  the  shock 
and  there  is  the  strain,  and  those  are  things  we 
have  to  pay  for  sooner  or  later.  Go  away,  I 
tell  you  !  Send  away  this  —  this  visitor,  give 
Diploma  the  key,  and  go  off  somewhere  for 
a  month  or  two.  Go  and  make  Nat  a  visit ! 
Poor  old  Nat,  he's  lonely  enough,  with  little 
Vesta  and  her  husband  in  Europe.  Think 
what  it  would  mean  to  him,  Vesta,  to  have 
you  with  him  for  awhile  ! " 

"  My  dear  James,  you  take  my  breath 
away,"  said  Miss  Vesta,  fluttering  a  little. 
"  You  are  most  kind  and  friendly,  but  —  but 
it  would  not  be  possible  for  me  to  go  away- 
I  could  not  think  of  it  for  a  moment,  even  if 
the  laws  of  hospitality  did  not  bind  me  as 
long  as  Maria  —  my  own   cousin,  remember, 


MARIA  245 

James  —  chooses  to  stay  here.  I  could  not 
think  of  it." 

"  I  should  like  to  know  why  !  "  said  Doctor 
Stedman,  obstinately.  "  I  should  like  to  know 
what  your  reasons  are,  Vesta." 

"  Oh ! "  Miss  Vesta  sighed,  as  if  she  felt  the 
hopelessness  of  fluttering  her  wings  against 
the  dead  wall  of  masculinity  before  her; 
nevertheless  she  spoke  up  bravely. 

"  I  have  given  you  one  reason  already, 
James.  It  would  be  not  only  unseemly,  but 
impossible,  for  me  to  leave  my  guest.  But 
even  without  that,  even  if  I  were  entirely 
alone,  still  I  could  not  go.  My  duties;  the 
house;  my  dear  sister's  ideas,  —  she  always 
said  a  house  could  not  be  left  for  a  month 
by  the  entire  family  without  deteriorating  in 
some  way  —  though  Diploma  is  most  excel- 
lent, most  faithful.  Then,  —  it  is  a  small 
matter,  but  —  I  have  always  cared  for  my 
seaward  lamp  in  person.     I  have  never  been 


246  MBS.    TREE 

away,  James,  since  —  I  first  lighted  the  lamp. 
Then  —  " 

"  I  am  still  waiting  for  a  reason,"  said  Doc- 
tor Stedman,  grimly.  "  I  have  not  heard  what 
I  call  one  yet." 

The  soft  color  rose  in  Miss  Vesta's  face,  and 
she  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  with  a  look  he  had 
seen  in  them  once  or  twice  before. 

"  Then  here  is  one  for  you,  James,"  she  said, 
quietly.     "  I  do  not  wish  to  go  ! " 

Doctor  Stedman  rose  abruptly,  and  tramped 
up  and  down  the  room  in  moody  silence. 
Miss  Vesta  sighed,  and  watched  his  feet. 
They  were  heavily  booted,  but  —  no,  there 
were  no  nails  in  them,  and  the  shining  floor 
remained  intact. 

Suddenly  he  came  to  a  stop  in  front  of  her. 

"What  if  I  carried  you  off,  you  inflexible 
little  piece  of  porcelain  ? "  he  said.  "  What 
if  —  Vesta,  —  may  I  speak  once  more  ? " 

"  Oh,  if    you    would    please    not,    James ! " 


MARIA  247 

cried  Miss  Vesta,  a  soft  hurry  in  her  voice, 
her  cheeks  very  pink.  "  I  should  be  so  truly 
grateful  to  you  if  you  would  not.  I  am  so 
happy  in  your  friendship,  James.  It  is  such  a 
comfort,  such  a  reliance  to  me.  Do  not,  I  beg 
of  you,  my  dear  friend,  disturb  it." 

"  But  —  you  are  alone,  child.  If  Phoebe 
had  lived,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  never  to 
trouble  you  again.  She  is  gone,  and  you  are 
alone,  and  tired,  and  —  I  find  it  hard  to  bear, 
Vesta.     I  do  indeed." 

He  spoke  with  heat  and  feeling.  Miss 
Vesta's  eyes  were  full  of  tenderness  as  she 
raised  them  to  his. 

"  You  are  so  kind,  James ! "  she  said.  "  No 
one  ever  had  a  kinder  or  more  faithful  friend ; 
of  that  I  am  sure.  But  you  must  never  think 
that,  about  my  being  alone.  I  am  never  alone ; 
almost  never  — -  at  least,  not  so  very  often, 
even  lonely.  I  live  with  a  whole  life-full 
of  blessed  memories.     Besides,  I  have   Aunt 


248  MBS.   TREE 

Marcia.  She  needs  me  more  and  more,  and 
by  and  by,  when  her  marvellous  strength  be- 
gins to  fail,  —  for  it  must  fail,  —  she  will  need 
me  constantly.  I  can  never,  never  feel  alone 
while  Aunt  Marcia  lives." 

"Hum!"  said  Doctor  Stedman.  "Well, 
good-by  !  Poison  Maria's  tea,  and  I'll  let  you 
off  with  that.  I'll  send  you  up  a  powder  of 
corrosive  sublimate  in  the  morning  —  there! 
there !  don't  look  horrified.  You  never  can 
understand  —  or  I  never  can.  I  mean,  I'll 
send  you  some  bromide  for  yourself.  Don't 
tell  me  that  you  are  sleeping  well,  for  I  know 
better.     Good-by,  my  dear ! " 


CHAPTEK   XVI. 

DOCTOR   STEDMAN'S   PATIENT 

Bright  and  early  the  next  morning,  Mrs. 
Pryor  .presented  herself  at  Mrs.  Tree's  door. 
It  was  another  Indian  summer  morning,  mild 
and  soft.  As  she  came  up  the  street,  Mrs. 
Pryor  had  seen,  or  thought  she  had  seen,  a 
figure  sitting  in  the  wicker  rocking-chair  on 
the  porch.  The  chair  was  empty  now,  but  it 
was  rocking  —  perhaps  with  the  wind. 

Direxia  Hawkes  answered  the  visitor's 
knock. 

"  How  do  you  do,  Direxia  ? "  said  Mrs. 
Pryor,  in  sprightly  tones.  "You  remember 
me,  of  course,  —  Miss  Maria.  Will  you  tell 
Mrs.  Tree  that  I  have  come,  please  ? " 

She  made  a  motion  to  enter,  but  Direxia 
stood  in  the  doorway,  grim  and  forbidding. 

249 


250  MRS.    TREE 

"  Mis'  Tree  can't  see  anybody  this  morning," 
she  said. 

Mrs.  Pryor  smiled  approvingly.  "  I  see  you 
are  a  good  watch-dog,  Direxia.  Very  proper, 
I  am  sure,  not  to  let  my  aunt,  at  her  age,  be 
annoyed  by  ordinary  visitors ;  but  your  care  is 
unnecessary  in  this  case.  I  will  just  step  into 
the  parlor,  and  you  can  tell  her  that  I  am 
here.  Probably  she  will  wish  me  to  come  up 
at  once  to  her  room,  but  you  may  as  well  go 
first,  just  to  prepare  her.  Any  shock,  however 
joyful,  is  to  be  avoided  with  the  aged." 

She  moved  forward  again,  but  Direxia 
Hawkes  did  not  stir. 

"  I'm  sorry,"  she  said.  "  I  am  so  ;  but  I 
can't  let  you  in,  Mis'  Pryor,  I  can't  nohow." 

"  Cannot  let  me  in  ? "  repeated  Mrs.  Pryor. 
"  What  does  this  mean  ?  It  is  some  conspir- 
acy. Of  course  I  know  there  is  a  jealousy, 
but  this  is  too  —  stand  aside  this  moment,  my 
good  creature,  and   don't  be  insolent,  or  you 


DOCTOR  STEDMAN' S  PATIENT       251 

will  repent  of  it.  I  shall  inform  my  aunt. 
Do  you  know  who  I  am  ? " 

"  Yes'm,  I  know  well  enough  who  you  are. 
Yes'm,  I  know  you  are  her  own  niece,  hut  if 
you  was  fifty  nieces  I  couldn't  let  you  in. 
She  ain't  goin'  to  see  a  livin'  soul  to-day  ex- 
cept Doctor  Stedman.  You  might  see  him, 
after  he's  ben  here,"  she  added,  relenting  a 
little  at  the  keen  chagrin  in  the  visitor's  face. 

Mrs.  Pryor  caught  at  the  straw. 

"  Ah !  she  has  sent  for  Doctor  Stedman. 
Very  right,  very  proper !  Of  course,  if  my 
aunt  does  not  think  it  wise  to  see  any  one 
until  after  the  physician's  visit,  I  can  under- 
stand that.  Nobody  is  more  careful  about 
such  matters  than  I  am.  I  will  see  Doctor 
Stedman  myself,  get  his  advice  and  directions, 
and  call  again.  Give  my  love  to  my  aunt, 
Direxia,  and  tell  her "  —  she  stretched  her 
neck  toward  the  door  — "  tell  her  that  I  am 
greatly  distressed    not    to    see   her,  and    still 


252  MRS.    TREE 

more  to  hear  that  she  is  indisposed ;  but  that 
very  soon,  as  soon  as  possible  after  the  doc- 
tor's visit,  I  shall  come  again  and  devote 
myself  to  her." 

"  Scat ! "  said  a  harsh  voice  from  within. 

"  Mercy  on  me !  what's  that  ? "  cried  Mrs. 
Pryor. 

"  Scat !  quousque  tandem,  0  Catilina  ?  Helen 
was  a  beauty,  Xantippe  was  —  " 

"  Hold  your  tongue  ! "  said  Direxia  Hawkes, 
hastily.  "  It's  only  the  parrot.  He  is  the 
worst-actin'  —  good  mornin',  Mis'  Pryor ! " 

She  closed  the  door  on  a  volley  of  screeches 
that  was  pouring  from  the  doorway. 

Mrs.  Pryor,  rustling  and  crackling  with 
indignation  against  the  world  in  general, 
made  her  way  down  the  garden  path.  She 
was  fumbling  with  the  latch  of  the  gate,  when 
the  door  of  the  opposite  house  opened,  and  a 
large  woman  came  out  and,  hastening  across 
the  road,  met  her  with  outstretched  hand. 


DOCTOR   STEDMAN'S  PATIENT       253 

"  Do  tell  me  if  this  isn't  Mis'  Pry  or !  "  said 
the  large  women,  cordially.  "  I  felt  sure  it 
must  be  you ;  I  heard  you  was  in  town.  You 
haven't  forgotten  Mis'  Weight,  Malviny  Askem 
as  was  ?  Well,  I  am  pleased  to  see  you. 
Walk  in,  won't  you  ?  now  do  !  Why,  you  are 
a  stranger !     Step  right  in  this  way ! " 

Nothing  loth,  Mrs.  Pryor  stepped  in,  and 
was  ushered  into  the  sitting-room. 

"  Deacon,  here's  an  old  friend,  if  I  may  pre- 
sume to  say  so ;  Mis'  Pryor,  Miss  Maria  Darra- 
cott  as  was.  You'll  be  rejoiced,  well  I  know. 
Isick  and  Annie  Lizzie,  come  here  this  minute 
and  shake  hands !  Your  right  hand,  Annie 
Lizzie,  and  take  your  finger  out  of  your  mouth, 
or  111  si —  I  shall  have  to  speak  to  you.  Let 
me  take  your  bunnet,  Maria,  mayn't  I  ? " 

Deacon  Weight  heaved  himself  out  of  his 
chair,  and  received  the  visitor  with  ponderous 
cordiality.  "  It  is  a  long  time  since  we  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  welcoming  you  to  Elmer- 


254  MBS.    TREE 

ton,  Mrs.  Pryor,"  he  said.  "  Your  family  has 
sustained  a  great  loss,  ma'am,  a  great  loss. 
Miss  Phoebe  Blyth  is  universally  lamented." 

Yes,  indeed,  a  sad  loss,  Mrs.  Pryor  said. 
She  regretted  deeply  that  she  had  not  been 
able  to  be  present  at  the  last  sad  rites.  She 
had  been  tenderly  attached  to  her  cousin, 
whom  she  had  not  seen  for  twenty  years. 

"  But  I  have  come  now,"  she  said,  "  to  de- 
vote myself  to  those  who  remain.  My  cousin 
Vesta  looks  sadly  ill  and  shrunken,  really  an 
old  woman,  and  my  aunt  Mrs.  Tree  is  seriously 
ill,  I  am  told,  unable  even  to  see  me  until 
after  the  doctor's  visit.  Very  sad  !  At  her 
age,  of  course  the  slightest  thing  in  the  nature 
of  a  seizure  would  probably  be  fatal.  Have 
you  seen  her  recently,  may  I  ask  ? " 

Deacon  Weight  crossed  and  uncrossed  his 
legs  uneasily.  Mrs.  Weight  bridled,  and 
pursed  her  lips. 

"  We  don't  often  see  Mis'  Tree  to  speak  to," 


DOCTOR   STEDMAN'S  PATIENT       255 

she  said.  "There's  those  you  can  be  neigh- 
borly with,  and  there's  those  you  can't.  Mis' 
Tree  has  never  showed  the  wish  to  he  neigh- 
borly, and  I  am  not  one  to  put  forth,  neither 
is  the  deacon.  Where  we  are  wished  for,  we 
go,  and  the  reverse,  we  stay  away.  We  do 
what  duty  calls  for,  no  more.  I  did  see  Mis' 
Tree  at  Phoebe's  funeral,"  she  added,  "  and  she 
looked  gashly  then.  I  hope  she  is  prepared,  I 
reelly  do.  I  know  Phoebe  was  real  uneasy 
about  her.  We  make  her  the  subject  of  prayer, 
the  deacon  and  I,  but  that's  all  we  can  do ;  and 
I  feel  bound  to  say  to  you,  Mis'  Pryor,  that  in 
my  opinion,  your  aunt's  soul  is  in  a  more  peril- 
ous way  than  her  body." 

Mrs.  Pryor  seemed  less  concerned  about  the 
condition  of  Mrs.  Tree's  soul  than  might  have 
been  expected.  She  asked  many  questions 
about  the  old  lady's  manner  of  life,  who  came 
to  the  house,  how  she  spent  her  time,  etc. 
Mrs.  Weight  answered  with  eager  volubility. 


256  MBS.    TREE 

She  told  how  often  the  butcher  came,  and 
what  costly  delicacies  he  left;  how  few  and 
far  between  were  what  she  might  call  spiri- 
tooal  visits ;  "  for  our  pastor  is  young,  Mis' 
Pryor,  and  it's  not  to  be  expected  that  he 
could  have  the  power  of  exhortation  to  com- 
pare with  those  who  have  labored  in  the  vine- 
yard the  len'th  of  time  Deacon  Weight  has. 
Then,  too,  she  has  a  way  that  rides  him  down 
—  Mr.  Bliss,  I'm  speakin'  of  —  and  makes  him 
ready  to  talk  about  any  truck  and  dicker  she 
likes.  I  see  him  come  out  the  other  day, 
laughin'  fit  to  split ;  you'd  never  think  he  was 
a  minister  of  the  gospel.  Not  that  I  should 
wish  to  be  understood  as  sayin'  anything 
against  Mr.  Bliss;  the  young  are  easily  led, 
even  the  best  of  them.  Isick,  don't  stand 
gappin'  there !  Shut  your  mouth,  and  go 
finish  your  chores.  And  Annie  Lizzie,  you  go 
and  peel  some  apples  for  mother.  Yes,  you 
can,  just  as  well  as  not ;  don't  answer  me  like 


DOCTOR   STEDMAN'S  PATIENT      257 

that !  No,  you  don't  want  a  cooky  now,  you 
ain't  been  up  from  breakfast  more  than  — 
well,  just  one,  then,  and  mind  you  pick  out 
a  small  one!  Mis'  Pryor,  I  didn't  like  to 
speak  too  plain  before  them  innocents,  but  it's 
easy  to  see  why  Mis'  Tree  clings  as  she  doos 
to  the  things  of  this  world.  If  I  had  the  out- 
look she  has  for  the  next,  I  should  tremble  in 
my  bed,  I  should  so." 

Finally  the  visitor  departed,  promising  to 
come  again  soon.  After  a  baffled  glance  at 
Mrs.  Tree's  house,  which  showed  an  uncom- 
promising front  of  closed  windows  and  muslin 
curtains,  she  made  her  way  to  the  post-ofhce, 
where  for  a  stricken  hour  she  harried  Mr. 
Homer  Hollopeter.  She  was  his  cousin  too, 
in  the  fifth  or  sixth  degree,  and  as  she  cheer- 
fully told  him,  Darracott  blood  was  a  bond, 
even  to  the  last  drop  of  it.  She  questioned 
him  as  to  his  income,  his  housekeeping,  his 
reasons  for  remaining  single,  which  appeared  to 


258  MRS.    TREE 

her  insufficient,  not  to  say  childish ;  she  com- 
mented on  his  looks,  the  fashion  of  his  dress 
(it  was  a  manifest  absurdity  for  a  man  of  his 
years  to  wear  a  sky-blue  neck-tie !),  the  decora- 
tions of  his  office.  She  thought  a  portrait  of 
the  President,  or  George  Washington,  would 
be  more  appropriate  than  those  dingy  engrav- 
ings. Who  were  —  oh,  Keats  and  Shelley  ? 
No  one  admired  poetry  more  than  she  did; 
she  had  read  Keats's  "  Christian  Year  "  only  a 
short  time  ago  ;  charming  ! 

"  And  what  is  that  landscape,  Cousin  Homer  ? 
Something  foreign,  evidently.  I  always  think 
that  a  government  office  should  be  represent- 
ative of  the  government.  I  have  a  print  at 
home,  a  bird's-eye  view  of  Washington  in  1859, 
which  I  will  send  you  if  you  like.  I  suppose 
you  have  an  express  frank  ?  No  ?  How  mean 
of  Congress  !  What  did  you  say  this  mountain 
was  ? " 

Mr.  Homer,  who  had  received  Mrs.  Pryor's 


DOCTOR   STEDMAN'S  PATIENT      259 

remarks  in  meekness  and  —  so  far  as  might 
be  —  in  silence,  waving  his  head  and  arms 
now  and  then  in  mute  dissent,  now  looked  up 
at  the  mountain  photograph ;  he  opened  and 
shut  his  mouth  several  times  before  he  found 
speech. 

"  The  picture,"  he  said,  slowly,  "  represents  a 
—  a —  mountain  ;  a  —  a  —  in  short,  —  a  moun- 
tain ! "  and  not  another  word  could  he  be  got 
to  say  about  it. 

Doctor  Stedman  had  a  long  round  to  go 
that  day,  and  it  was  not  till  late  afternoon 
that  he  reached  home  and  found  a  message 
from  Mrs.  Tree  saying  that  she  wished  to  see 
him.  He  hastened  to  the  house  ;  Direxia,  who 
had  evidently  been  watching  for  him,  opened 
the  door  almost  before  he  knocked. 

"  Nothing  serious,  I  trust,  Direxia ! "  he 
asked,  anxiously.  "  I  have  been  out  of  town, 
and  am  only  just  back." 

"  Hush !  "  whispered  Direxia,  with  a  glance 


260  MBS.    TBEE 

toward  the  parlor  door.  "I  don't  know;  I 
can't  make  out  —  " 

"  Come  in,  James  Stedman ! "  called  Mrs. 
Tree  from  the  parlor.  "Don't  stand  there 
gossiping  with  Direxia ;  I  didn't  send  for  you 
to  see  her." 

Direxia  lifted  her  hands  and  eyes  with  an 
eloquent  gesture.  "  She  is  the  beat  of  all ! " 
she  murmured,  and  fled  to  her  kitchen. 

Entering  the  parlor  Doctor  Stedman  found 
Mrs.  Tree  sitting  by  the  fire  as  usual,  with  her 
feet  on  the  fender.  Sitting,  but  not  attired,  as 
usual.  She  was  dressed,  or  rather  enveloped, 
in  a  vast  quilted  wrapper  of  flowered  satin, 
tulips  and  poppies  on  a  pale  buff  ground,  and 
her  head  was  surmounted  by  the  most  as- 
tonishing nightcap  that  ever  the  mind  of 
woman  devised.  So  ample  and  manifold  were 
its  flapping  borders,  and  so  small  the  keen 
brown  face  under  them,  that  Doctor  Stedman, 
though  not  an  imaginative  person,  could  think 


DOCTOR   STEBMAN'S  PATIENT     261 

of  nothing  but  a  walnut  set  in  the  centre  of  a 
cauliflower. 

"  Good  afternoon,  James  Stedman  ! "  said  the 
old  lady.     "  I  am  sick,  you  see." 

"  I  see,  Mrs.  Tree,"  said  the  doctor,  glancing 
from  the  wrapper  and  cap  to  the  bowl  and 
spoon  that  stood  on  the  violet-wood  table. 
He  had  seen  these  things  before.  "  You  don't 
feel  seriously  out  of  trim,  I  hope  ? " 

Mrs  Tree  fixed  him  with  a  bright  black 
eye. 

"  At  my  age,  James,  everything  is  serious," 
she  said,  gravely.  "You  know  that  as  well 
as  I  do." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman. 
He  laid  his  hand  on  her  wrist  for  a  moment, 
then  returned  her  look  with  one  as  keen  as 
her  own. 

"  Have  you  any  symptoms  for  me  ?  " 

"I  thought  that  was  your  business!"  said 
the  patient. 


262  MRS.    TREE 

"  Hum ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman.  "  How  long, 
have  you  been  —  a  —  feeling  like  this  ? " 

"  Ever  since  yesterday ;  no,  the  day  before. 
I  am  excessively  nervous,  James.  I  am  unfit 
to  talk,  utterly  unfit ;  I  cannot  see  people.  I 
want  you  to  keep  people  away  from  me  for  — 
for  some  days.  You  must  see  that  I  am  unfit 
to  see  anybody  ! " 

"  Ha ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman. 

"  It  agitates  me  ! "  cried  the  old  lady.  "  At 
my  age  I  cannot  afford  to  be  agitated.  Have 
some  orange  cordial,  James ;  do !  it  is  in  the 
Moorish  cabinet  there,  the  right-hand  cup- 
board. Yes,  you  may  bring  two  glasses  if 
you  like;  I  feel  a  sinking.  You  see  that  I 
am  in  no  condition  for  visitors." 

The  corners  of  Doctor  Stedman's  gray  beard 
twitched ;  but  he  poured  a  small  portion  of 
the  cordial  into  two  fat  little  gilt  tumblers, 
and  handed  one  gravely  to  his  patient. 

"Perhaps  this  is  as  good  medicine  as  you 


"  '  PERHAPS     THIS     IS     AS     GOOD     MEDICINE     AS     YOU 
CAN    TAKE  !'    HE    SAID." 


DOCTOR   STEDMAN'S  PATIENT      263 

can  take  ! "  he  said.  "  Delicious  !  Does  the 
secret  of  this  die  with  Direxia  ?  But  I'll 
put  you  up  some  powders,  Mrs.  Tree,  for  the 
—  a  —  nervousness;  and  I  certainly  think  it 
would  be  a  good  plan  for  you  to  keep  very 
quiet  for  awhile." 

"  I'll  see  no  one  ! "  cried  the  old  lady.  "  Not 
even  Yesta,  James  ! " 

"  Hum ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman.  "  Well,  if 
you  say  so,  not  even  Vesta." 

"Vesta  is  so  literal,  you  see!"  said  Mrs. 
Tree,  comfortably.  "  Then  that  is  settled ; 
and  you  will  give  your  orders  to  Direxia.  I 
am  utterly  unfit  to  talk,  and  you  forbid  me  to 
see  anybody.  How  do  you  think  Vesta  is 
looking,  James  ? " 

Doctor  Stedman's  eyes,  which  had  been 
twinkling  merrily  under  his  shaggy  eyebrows, 
grew  suddenly  grave. 

"  Badly ! "  he  said,  briefly.  "  Worn,  tired  — 
almost  sick.     She  ought  to  have  absolute  rest, 


264  MBS.    TREE 

mind,  body,  and  soul,  and,  instead  of  that,  here 
comes  this  —  " 

"  Catamaran  ? "  suggested  Mrs.  Tree,  blandly. 

"You  know  her  better  than  I  do,"  said 
James  Stedman.  "Here  she  comes,  at  any 
rate,  and  settles  down  on  Vesta,  and  an- 
nounces that  she  has  come  to  stay.  It  ought 
not  to  be  allowed.  Mrs.  Tree,  I  want  Vesta  to 
go  away ;  she  is  unfit  for  visitors,  if  you  will. 
I  want  her  to  go  off  somewhere  for  an  entire 
change.    Can  it  not  be  managed  in  some  way  ? " 

"  Why  don't  you  take  her  ? "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

The  slow  red  crept  into  James  Stedman's 
strong,  kindly  face.  He  made  no  reply  at 
first,  but  sat  looking  into  the  fire,  while  the 
old  woman  watched  him. 

At  last  —  "  You  asked  me  that  once  before, 
Mrs.  Tree,"  he  said,  with  an  effort;  "how 
many  years  ago  was  it  ?  Never  mind !  I 
can  only  make  the  same  answer  that  I  made 
then.     She  will  not  come." 


DOCTOR   STEDMAN 'S  PATIENT      265 

"  Have  you  tried  again,  James  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  have  tried  again,  or  —  tried  to  try. 
I  will  not  persecute  her ;  I  told  you  that 
before." 

"  Has  the  little  idiot  —  has  she  any  reason 
to  give?" 

Doctor  Stedman  gave  a  short  laugh.  "  She 
doesn't  wish  it ;  isn't  that  reason  enough  ?  I 
said  something  about  her  being  alone  ;  I  couldn't 
help  it,  she  looked  so  little,  and  —  but  she 
feels  that  she  will  never  be  alone  so  long  as 
—  that  is,  she  feels  that  she  has  all  the  com- 
panionship she  needs." 

"  So  long  as  what  ?  So  long  as  I  am  alive, 
hey  ? "  said  the  old  lady.  Her  eyes  were  like 
sparks  of  black  fire,  but  James  Stedman  would 
not  meet  them.  He  stared  moodily  before  him, 
and  made  no  reply. 

"lama  meddlesome  old  woman  ! "  said  Mrs. 
Tree.  "You  wish  I  would  leave  you  alone, 
James  Stedman,  and  so  I  will.     Old  women 


266  MBS.    TREE 

ought  to  be  strangled;  there's  some  place 
where  they  do  it,  Cap'n  Tree  told  me  about 
it  once;  I  suppose  it's  because  they  talk  too 
much.  She  said  she  shouldn't  be  alone  while 
I  lived,  hey  ?  Where  are  you  going,  James  ? 
Stay  and  have  supper  with  me ;  do !  it  would 
be  a  charity;  and  there's  a  larded  partridge 
with  bread  sauce.  Direxia's  bread  sauce  is 
the  best  in  the  world,  you  know  that." 

"  Yes,  I  know ! "  said  Doctor  Stedman,  his 
eyes  twinkling  once  more  as  he  took  up  his 
hat.  "  I  wish  I  could  stay,  but  I  have  still 
one  or  two  calls  to  make.  But  —  larded  part- 
ridge, Mrs.  Tree,  in  your  condition !  I  am 
surprised  at  you.  I  would  recommend  a  cup 
of  gruel  and  a  slice  of  thin  toast  without 
butter." 

"  Cat's  foot ! "  said  Mrs.  Tree.  "  Well,  good- 
night, James ;  and  don't  forget  the  orders  to 
Direxia :  I  am  utterly  unfit  to  talk  and  must 
not  see  any  one." 


CHAPTEE   XVII. 

NOT   YET! 

How  it  happened  that,  in  spite  of  the  strict 
interdict  laid  upon  all  visitors  at  Mrs.  Tree's 
house,  Tommy  Candy  found  his  way  in,  no- 
body knows  to  this  day.  Direxia  Hawkes 
found  him  in  the  front  entry  one  afternoon, 
and  pounced  upon  him  with  fury.  The  boy 
showed  every  sign  of  guilt  and  terror,  but  re- 
fused to  say  why  he  had  come  or  what  he 
wanted.  As  he  was  hustled  out  of  the  door 
a  voice  from  above  was  heard  to  cry,  "  The 
ivory  elephant  for  your  own,  mind,  and  a  box 
of  the  kind  with  nuts  in  it ! "  Sometimes 
Jocko  could  imitate  his  mistress's  voice  to 
perfection. 

Mrs.  Weight,  whom  the  news  of  Mrs.  Tree's 

267 


268  MBS.    TREE 

actual  illness  had  wrought  to  a  fever-pitch  of 
observation,  saw  the  boy  come  out,  and  car- 
ried the  word  at  once  to  Mrs.  Pry  or;  in  ten 
minutes  that  lady  was  at  the  door  clamoring 
for  entrance.  Direxia,  her  apron  at  her  eyes, 
was  firm,  but  evidently  in  distress. 

"She's  took  to  her  bed!"  she  said.  "I 
darsn't  let  you  in ;  it'd  be  as  much  as  my  life 
is  wuth  and  her'n  too,  the  state  she's  in.  I 
think  she's  out  of  her  head,  Mis'  Pryor.  There ! 
she's  singin'  this  minute;  do  hear  her!  Oh, 
my  poor  lady  !  I  wish  Doctor  Stedman  would 
come  ! " 

Over  the  stairs  came  floating,  in  a  high- 
pitched  thread  of  voice,  a  scrap  of  eldritch 
song: 

«  Tiddy  hi,  toddy  ho, 
Tiddy  hi  hum, 
Thus  was  it  when  Barbara  Popkins  was  young  ! " 

Mrs.  Pryor  hastened  back  and  told  Miss 
Yesta  that  their  aunt  was  delirious,  and  had 


NOT   YET!  269 

probably  but  a  few  hours  to  live.  Poor  Miss 
Vesta !  she  would  have  broken  through  any 
interdict  and  flown  to  her  aunt's  side;  but 
she  herself  was  housed  with  a  heavy,  feverish 
cold,  and  Doctor  Stedman's  commands  were 
absolute.  "You  may  say  what  you  like  to 
your  friend,"  he  said,  "but  you  must  obey 
your  physician.  I  know  what  I  am  about, 
and  I  forbid  you  to  leave  the  house  ! " 

At  these  words  Miss  Vesta  leaned  back  on 
her  sofa-pillow  with  a  gentle  sigh.  James  did 
know  what  he  was  about,  of  course ;  and  — 
since  he  had  privately  assured  her  that  he  did 
not  consider  Mrs.  Tree  in  any  danger,  and 
since  she  really  felt  quite  unable  to  stand, 
much  less  to  go  out  —  it  was  very  comfort- 
able to  be  absolutely  forbidden  to  do  so.  Still 
it  was  not  a  pleasant  day  for  Miss  Vesta. 
Mrs.  Pryor  never  left  her  side,  declaring  that 
this  duty  at  least  she  could  and  would  per- 
form, and  Vesta  might  be  assured  she  would 


270  MRS.    TREE 

never  desert  her ;  and  the  stream  of  talk  about 
the  Darracott  blood,  the  family  portraits,  and 
the  astonishing  moral  obliquity  of  most  per- 
sons except  Mrs.  Pryor  herself,  flowed  on  and 
around  and  over  Miss  Vesta's  aching  head  till 
she  felt  that  she  was  floating  away  on  waves 
of  the  fluid  which  is  thicker  than  water. 

In  the  afternoon  a  bolt  fell.  It  was  about 
five  o'clock,  near  the  time  for  Doctor  Stedman's 
daily  visit,  when  the  door  flew  open  without 
knock  or  ring,  and  Tragedy  appeared  on  the 
threshold  in  the  person  of  Mrs.  Malvina 
Weight.  Speechless,  she  stood  in  the  door- 
way and  beckoned.  She  had  been  running, 
a  method  of  locomotion  for  which  nature  had 
not  intended  her;  her  breath  came  in  quick 
gasps,  and  her  face  was  as  the  face  of  a  Savoy 
cabbage. 

"  For  pity's  sake  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Pryor.  "  What 
is  the  matter,  Malvina  ? " 

"  She's  gone  ! "  gasped  Mrs.  Weight. 


NOT    YET!  271 

"  Who's  gone  ?  Do  speak  up !  What  do 
you  mean,  Malvina  Weight  ? " 

"  Mis'  Tree !  there's  crape  on  the  door.  I 
see  it  —  three  minutes  ago  —  with  these  eyes  ! 
I  run  all  the  way  —  just  as  I  was ;  I've  got 
my  death,  I  expect  —  palpitations  —  I  had  to 
come.  She's  gone  in  her  sins !  Oh,  girls,  ain't 
it  awful  ? " 

Miss  Vesta,  pale  and  trembling,  tried  to  rise, 
but  fell  back  on  the  sofa. 

"  James  ! "  she  said,  faintly  ;  "  where  is  James 
Stedman  ? " 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  Vesta  Blyth  ! "  cried 
Mrs.  Pryor.  "  I  will  send  for  Doctor  Sted- 
man ;  I  will  attend  to  everything.  I  am 
going  to  the  house  myself  this  instant.  Here, 
Diploma !  come  and  take  care  of  your  mis- 
tress !  cologne,  salts,  whatever  you  have.  I 
must  fly!" 

And  as  a  hen  flies,  fluttering  and  cack- 
ling,   so  did    Mrs.  Pryor   flutter  and  cackle, 


272  MBS.    TREE 

up  the  street,  with  Mrs.  Weight,  still  breath- 
less, pounding  and  gasping  in  her  wake. 

"  For  the  land's  sake,  what  is  the  matter  ? " 
asked  Diploma  Crotty,  appearing  in  the  par- 
lor doorway  with  a  flushed  cheek  and  floury 
hands.  "  Miss  Vesty,  I  give  you  to  under- 
stand that  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  called  from 
my  bread  by  no  —  my  dear  heart  alive  !  what 
has  happened  ? " 

Miss  Vesta  put  her  hand  to  her  throat. 

"  My  aunt,  Diploma  ! "  she  whispered.  "  She 
—  Mrs.  Weight  says  there  is  crape  on  the 
door.  I  —  I  seem  to  have  lost  my  strength. 
Oh,  where  is  Doctor  Stedman  ?  " 

A  brown,  horrified  face  looked  for  an  instant 
over  Diploma's  shoulder ;  the  face  of  Direxia 
Hawkes,  who  had  come  in  search  of  something 
her  mistress  wanted,  leaving  the  second  maid 
in  charge  of  her  patient ;  it  vanished,  and  an- 
other figure  scurried  up  the  street,  breathless 
with  fear  and  wonder. 


NOT   YEI!  273 

"  You  lay  down,  Miss  Vesty  ! "  commanded 
Diploma.  "  Lay  down  this  minute,  that's  a 
good  girl.  Whoever's  dead,  you  ain't,  and  I 
don't  want  you  should.  There !  Here  comes 
Doctor  Stedman  this  minute.  I'll  run  and  let 
him  in.  Oh,  Doctor  Stedman,  it  ain't  true,  is 
it?" 

"Probably  not,"  said  Doctor  Stedman 
"What  is  it?" 

"  Ain't  you  been  at  Mis'  Tree's  ? " 

"  No,  I  am  going  there  now.  I  have  been 
out  in  the  country.     What  is  the  matter  ? " 

"  James  ! "  cried  Miss  Vesta's  voice. 

The  sound  of  it  struck  the  physician's  ear ; 
he  looked  at  Diploma. 

"  What  has  happened  ? " 

"  Go  in  !  go  in  and  see  her  ! "  whispered  the 
old  woman.  "  They  say  Mis'  Tree's  dead ;  I 
dono  ;  but  go  in,  do,  there's  a  good  soul !  " 

"  Oh,  James ! "  cried  Miss  Vesta,  and  she 
held  out  both  hands,  trembling  with  fever  and 


274  MBS.    TREE 

distress.  "I  am  so  glad  you  have  come. 
James !  Aunt  Marcia  is  dead ;  there  is  crape 
on  her  door.  Did  you  know  ?  Were  you 
with  her  ?  Oh,  James,  I  am  all  alone  now. 
I  am  all  alone  in  the  world ! " 

"Never,  while  I  am  alive!"  said  James 
Stedman,  catching  the  little  trembling  hands 
in  his.  "  Look  up,  Vesta  !  Cheer  up,  my  dear ! 
You  can  never  he  alone  while  I  am  in  the 
same  world  with  you.  If  your  aunt  is  indeed 
dead,  then  you  belong  to  me,  Vesta ;  why,  you 
know  you  do,  you  foolish  little  woman.  There  ! 
there  !  stop  trembling.  My  dear,  did  you  think 
I  would  let  you  be  really  alone  for  five  min- 
utes?" 

"  Oh,  James  ! "  cried  Miss  Vesta.  "  Consider 
our  age  !     Sister  Phoebe  —  " 

"  I  do  consider  our  age,"  said  Doctor  Sted- 
man.  "  It  is  just  what  I  consider.  We  have 
no  more  time  to  waste.  And  Phoebe  is  not 
here.     Here,  drink  this,  my  dear  love !     Now 


NOT   YET!  275 

let  me  tuck  you  up  again  while  I  go  and  see 
what  all  this  is  about.  Who  told  you  Mrs. 
Tree  was  dead  ?  She  was  alive  enough  this 
morning.', 

"  Mrs.  Weight.  She  saw  the  crape  on  the 
door,  and  came  straight  here  to  tell  us.  It 
was  thoughtful,  James,  but  so  sudden,  and 
you  were  not  here.  Maria  has  gone  up  there 
now.     Oh,  my  poor  Aunt  Marcia ! " 

"  Hum  !  "  said  Doctor  Stedman.  "  Mrs. 
Weight  and  Mrs.  Pryor,  eh  ?  A  precious 
pair!  Well,  I  will  soon  find  out  the  truth 
and  let  you  know.     Good-by,  little  woman  ! " 

"  Oh,  James ! "  said  Miss  Vesta,  "  do  you 
really  think  —  " 

"  I  don't  think,  I  know  ! "  said  James  Sted- 
man.    "  Good-by,  my  Vesta ! " 

Sure  enough,  there  was  crape  on  the  door  of 
Mrs.  Tree's  house  —  a  long  rusty  streamer.  It 
hung  motionless  in  the  quiet  evening  air,  elo- 
quent of  many  things. 


276  MRS.    TREE 

The  door  itself  was  unlocked,  and  Mrs. 
Pryor  tumbled  in  headlong,  with  Mrs.  Weight 
at  her  heels.  Both  women  were  too  breathless 
to  speak.  They  rushed  into  the  parlor,  and 
stood  there,  literally  mopping  and  mowing  at 
each  other,  handkerchief  in  hand. 

Something  about  the  air  of  the  little  room 
seemed  to  arrest  the  frenzied  rush  of  their 
curiosity.  Yet  all  was  as  usual:  the  dim, 
antique  richness,  the  warm  scent  of  the  fra- 
grant woods,  the  living  presence  —  was  it  the 
only  presence  ?  —  of  the  fire  on  the  hearth. 
Even  when  the  two  had  recovered  their  breath, 
neither  spoke  for  some  minutes,  and  it  was 
only  when  a  brand  broke  and  fell  forward  in 
tinkling  red  coals  on  the  marble  hearth  that 
Mrs.  Pryor  found  her  voice. 

"  I  declare,  Malvina,  I  feel  as  if  there  were 
some  one  in  this  room.  I  never  was  in  it 
without  Aunt  Marcia,  and  it  seems  as  if  she 
must  come  in  this  minute." 


NOT   YET!  211 

"  It  doos  so  ! "  said  Mrs.  Weight  in,  a  fright- 
ened half -whisper.  "In  that  chair  she  set, 
every  time  I  ever  was  in  this  room,  too, 
Maria.  Maybe  her  sperit  hovers  now.  Ain't 
it  an  awful  disposition  ? " 

"  Dispensation,  my  good  Malvina ! "  said 
Mrs.  Pryor.  "  It  is  indeed  a  solemn  occasion. 
Did  that  curtain  move  ?  ISTo,  'twas  only  the 
firelight.  Firelight  plays  such  tricks  some- 
times. I  declare,  I  don't  know  when  I  have 
felt  so  nervous." 

"  Shall  we  go  right  up-stairs  ? "  whispered 
Mrs.  Weight.  "  I  presume  you'll  wish  to  be 
the  first  to  view  the  —  " 

"  In  just  a  minute ! "  said  Mrs.  Pryor. 
"  There's  no  haste ;  and  I  feel  —  I  don't  mind 
saying  it  to  you,  Malvina,  but  I  feel  dashed, 
somehow.  I  believe  I'll  wait  till  Doctor  Sted- 
man  comes  before  I  go  up-stairs.  After  all, 
the  physician  should  be  the  first  —  I  shall 
always   think   it   very   neglectful    of    Doctor 


278  MRS.    TREE 

Stedman  not  to  have  been  here;  criminal,  I 
may  almost  say.  Another  thing,  I  want  to 
take  a  look  round  this  room.  It's  years  since 
I  have  been  here.  You  need  not  speak  of  it, 
Malvina,  hut  I  suppose  all  this  will  come  to 
me.  Vesta  has  her  own  house,  and  Nathaniel's 
children  are  married  and  have  homes  of  their 
own.  I  have  always  coveted  this  house, 
though  I  never  agreed  with  Aunt  Marcia's 
ideas  of  furnishing.  This  room  is  terribly 
dark,  with  all  that  red  cedar  and  the  other 
outlandish  woods.  Just  a  fad  of  Uncle  Tree's ; 
so  unwholesome !  I  shall  paint  it  white  and 
gold,  and  re-cover  all  the  furniture,  every 
stick ;  something  bright  and  flowered.  Look 
at  that  ottoman,  with  that  ridiculous  bead 
puppy  on  it !  bead  work  is  so  antiquated !  I 
shall  do  away  with  everything  of  that  sort, 
you  may  depend  upon  it." 

"You'll  have  everything  real  tasty,  I'll  be 
bound,"  said   Mrs.  Weight,  fawningly.     "  Oh, 


NOT  YET!  279 

how  thankful  shall  I  be  to  have  neighbors  as 
is  neighbors.  Providence  has  raised  you  up, 
Maria,  I  do  believe." 

"  There  is  the  Moorish  cabinet ! "  said  Mrs. 
Pryor.  She  crossed  the  room  and  stood  before 
the  ancient  cabinet,  whose  gold  lacquer  shone 
warm  in  the  firelight.  The  dusk  was  deepen- 
ing in  the  room,  but  the  flames  leaped  and 
flickered,  searching  out  every  dim  corner. 

"I  don't  mind  telling  you,  Malvina,"  said 
Mrs.  Pryor,  "  that  I  have  longed  all  my  life  to 
rummage  that  cabinet.  It's  my  belief  that  it 
is  simply  crammed  with  valuable  things,  fam- 
ily relics,  which  belong  as  much  to  me  as  to 
any  one,  now  Aunt  Marcia  is  gone.  The 
Darracott  blood  —  where  is  the  key  ? " 

"  I  have  the  key  ! "  said  a  voice  behind  her. 

She  turned  with  a  violent  start.  There,  in 
the  dim  firelight,  amid  the  wavering  gleams 
and  shadows,  stood  —  what,  or  who  ? 

Gown    of    cinnamon-colored    satin,    ruffled 


280  MBS.    TREE 

black  silk  apron,  net  kerchief  pinned  with  a 
flashing  diamond  brooch,  cap  suggesting  the 
Corinthian   order  —  Mrs.  Tree,  or  her  spirit  ? 

The  tiny  lace-mitted  hands  were  crossed  on 
the  ebony  crutch-stick,  the  black  eyes  gleamed 
fire,  the  lips  curved  in  a  malign  smile. 

"  I  have  the  key  ! "  said  the  Vision  again. 

Mrs.  Weight  uttered  a  wild  shriek  and 
fled.  Mrs.  Pryor  collapsed  in  a  shuddering 
heap  on  the  bead  ottoman,  her  hands  clasped 
over  her  eyes. 

The  old  woman  stood  over  her  like  an 
avenging  sprite. 

"  Not  yet,  Maria  Darracott ! "  she  said. 
"Not  yet!" 

"That  Tommy  Candy!"  sputtered  Direxia 
Hawkes.  "  He  ought  to  be  in  State  Prison, 
that's  where  he  ought  to  be.  How  you  can 
sit  there  and  stand  up  for  him,  Mis'  Tree,  is 
more  than  I  can  see." 


NOT   YET!  281 

"  Pretty  smart,  to  be  able  to  sit  and  stand 
up  at  once,  at  my  age,  Direxia ! "  replied  Mrs. 
Tree,  composedly.  "  Tommy  is  a  naughty  boy, 
certainly,  but  I  shall  not  prosecute  him  this 
time.     You  old  goose,  I  told  him  to  do  it ! " 

"  You  —  oh,  my  Solemn  Deliverance  !  she's 
gone  clean  out  of  her  wits  this  time,  and 
there's  an  end  of  it.  Oh !  my  gracious,  Mis' 
Tree  —  if  the  Lord  ain't  good,  and  sent  Doctor 
Stedman  just  this  minute  of  time !  Oh,  Doc- 
tor Stedman,  I'm  glad  you've  come.  She's 
settin'  here  in  her  cheer,  ravin'  distracted." 

"  How  do  you  do,  James  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Tree. 
"I  am  quite  in  my  senses,  thank  you,  and  I 
mean  to  live  to  a  hundred." 

"  My  dear  old  friend,"  cried  James  Stedman, 
taking  the  tiny  withered  hands  in  his  and 
kissing  them,  "  I  wish  you  might  live  for  ever ; 
but  I  can  never  thank  you  enough  for  having 
been  dead  for  half  an  hour.  It  has  made  me 
the  happiest  man  in  the  world.     I  am  going 


282  MBS.    TREE 

to  tell  Vesta  this  moment.  It  is  never  too 
late  to  be  happy,  is  it,  Mrs.  Tree  ?  Mayn't  I 
say  «  Aunt  Tree '  now  ?  " 

"  It's  all  right,  is  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Tree.  « I 
am  glad  to  hear  it.  Vesta  has  not  much 
sense,  James,  but  then,  I  never  thought  you 
had  too  much,  and  she  is  as  good  as  gold.  I 
wish  you  both  joy,  and  I  shall  come  to  the 
wedding.  Now,  Direxia  Hawkes,  what  are 
you  crying  about,  I  should  like  to  know? 
Doctor  Stedman  and  Miss  Vesta  are  going  to 
be  married,  and  high  time,  too.  Is  that  any- 
thing to  cry  about  ?  " 

"  She  is  the  beat  of  all ! "  cried  Direxia 
Hawkes,  through  her  tears,  which  she  was 
wiping  recklessly   with  a  valuable   lace  tidy. 

"  Fust  she  was  dead  and  then  she  warn't,  and 
then  she  was  crazy  and  now  she  ain't,  and  I 
can't  stand  no  more.     I'm  clean  tuckered  out ! " 

"  Cat's  foot  I"  said  Mrs.  Tree. 

THE    END. 


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